


Who sows the wind, reaps the storm

by Advena87, DanyTheET, Gavilan



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Based on Scavenger Hunt: Cat School Gear quest, Bisexual Kiyan, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Cat School (The Witcher), Demonic Possession, Developing Relationship, Emotional Slow Burn, Est Tayiar, Get Together, Hurt/Comfort, Just two growly tops, M/M, Main Character(s) of Color, Misunderstandings, Murder Husbands, Oxenfurt Academy (The Witcher), Possessive Behavior, Racism, Rare Characters, Rare Pairings, Sexual Tension, Swordfighting, The Love Is Requited They're Just Idiots, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, The Witcher Lore, Unbury The Gays, Witcher Senses, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher), assholes in love, game canon mostly, saving Kiyan, stubborn idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Advena87/pseuds/Advena87, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyTheET/pseuds/DanyTheET, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavilan/pseuds/Gavilan
Summary: "The ruins of the elven palace Est Tayiar in Redania were mentioned several times in the records of the oldest cat school masters as a potential source of exquisite weapons and diagrams, but the records didn’t specify the exact location of the palace or what it had been, exactly, in its heyday. Either way, Kiyan had nothing better to do, except avoid headhunters, so he planned on spending this year on the path searching for treasures."
Relationships: Kiyan (The Witcher)/Adrien (The Witcher)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 26





	1. Roots

**Author's Note:**

> This text is the result of scheming on a discord, some very smart, inventive, wonderful people who gave their ideas and HC here and with all their heart wanted to Unbury The Gays.
> 
> [ CaptainMinette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainMinette), [DanyTheET](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyTheET/pseuds/DanyTheET), [Gavilan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavilan/pseuds/Gavilan), [Lynge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynge/works), [sohydrated](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohydrated/works) \- Everything good about this fic comes from them. Everything bad is my fault, because I didn't have enough talent or language skills to fully reflect their ideas. And I gave them a lot of work with editing, correcting and repairing this. Please give them a lot of love, because they deserve it and check out their works, because they are great, talented people with beautiful minds.
> 
> Advena
> 
> (P.S. Advena is the one who made this into an actual fic with actual words when we were all just squeeing in a discord server and deserves SO MUCH LOVE for this fic. -Gav)
> 
> NOW WITH AMAZING COVER ART BY [BOOKSCORPION](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookscorpion/profile)!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like digging holes and hiding things inside them  
> When I grow old, I hope I won't forget to find them  
> 'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night
> 
> I build a home and wait for someone to tear it down  
> Then pack it up in boxes, head for the next town running  
> 'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night
> 
> And a thousand times I've seen this road  
> A thousand times
> 
> I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground  
> I've got no roots
> 
> I like standing still, but that's just a wishful plan  
> Ask me where I come from, I'll say a different land  
> But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night
> 
> I count gates and numbers, then play the guessing game  
> It's just the place that changes, the rest is still the same  
> But I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night
> 
> And a thousand times I've seen this road  
> A thousand times*

Kiyan stuck a shovel into the ground, pushed his heel, and scooped the first piece of soil aside. Although he could see well in the dark, he appreciated the fact that the moon was shining brightly in the cloudless sky. He didn't like working in the dark. The mutation of his eyes had gone a bit off-plan; although his cat's eyes gave him clear vision, he started to suffer from dry-eye very quickly whenever he had to strain his eyesight in the dark.

And he had a lot of work to do tonight. He had excavated two of the four boxes so far, and the cemetery was full of necrophages. The witcher deliberately chose this place to hide his loot from last year's plunder: he could be sure that any grave robber would never leave this place alive, and therefore take nothing from him. The loot was safe here, and it might have stayed so for another year, but the witcher had a client for this stuff, a friendly fence from Oxenfurt who had helped him get his new swords last season. Kiyan was responsible and kept his word. He hadn’t intended to delay, but unfortunately, before he had time to close his business in Redania, the bounty hunters had caught his trail again and he had been forced to flee all the way to Skellige. He waited out the winter with the pirates on Faroe, for only there could he be sure that the hunters wouldn’t follow him

However, it was not an obligation to the fence that brought him back to Redania, but the diary of one of the old masters of his witcher school. Some time ago, Kiyan and Joël had taken a risk and returned to Stygga Castle. It was quite dangerous, as the Castle was still being watched by the royal guards and headhunters, but it had paid off. Guxart had ordered them to retrieve the old books about mutations and Trials, but Kiyan and Joël had taken the opportunity to take a few more trinkets from the keep’s library. One of these things was the diaries of the old masters. Of course, Guxart didn't know anything about it; he would be furious if he found out that they were taking extra risks for this.

Kiyan had learned last year that it was worth paying attention to the old masters' writings. Thanks to them, he found the trail of his swords - the mythical Moonblades. Admittedly, legend spoke of _one_ silver blade, forged by an elven master from Ellander and anointed by priestesses to the moon goddess - Lilvani. The sword was forged for a witcher from the wolf school, who allegedly used this blade to end the life of a demon harassing the ducal court. Kiyan, however, saw many inaccuracies in this story. First of all, every witcher knew that a demon cannot be killed. You can banish it, kill its host, but the evil spirit itself is immortal. Thus, a blade capable of destroying such a mighty impure force should be a national treasure, while after this matter with the ducal demon, the blade had simply been lost. Second, Kiyan had dug up a few old ballads about the event that mentioned twin blades. Which would make sense, considering that they were supposed to be a witcher's equipment.

Following the legend, he came across many fakes and copies of this sword, but there was no trace of the original. He was about to give up, checking the last lead only because he didn't like to leave things unfinished, when it turned out that the last lead was the right one. Yosek, a fence from Oxenfurt, was in possession of a map that had once been part of the belongings of the witcher Oleck from the wolf school, who had died tragically while fulfilling a contract. The name and school matched the legend, and what was probably every temple of Lilvani was marked on the map: not only the few still active in Ellender, but also the abandoned ones scattered throughout the North. One, long forgotten by the locals, was less than a day's ride from Oxenfurt. Yosek had added digging tools to the map at a bargain price, and in return the witcher was to deliver him any loot found in the old and forgotten sanctuary at an equally bargain price.

It was not easy to get to the temple. Kiyan had to work his way through caves densely inhabited by monsters, but it gave him hope that no one before him had managed to rob the temple. And he was right. The tabernacle turned out to be untouched by any looters. It was also the burial place of the legendary Oleck of Ban Gleán, and along with the witcher's body, a silver Moonblade and a twin, steel blade were placed in the grave. The rest of the treasures didn't matter much to Kiyan, but he decided that Yosek deserved them and made an effort to extract them. Unfortunately, when he was running between the temple and the cemetery in a nearby abandoned village, head hunters found him, and he had abandoned his plans for a quick transaction with the fence.

Kiyan only hoped that Yosek would not be resentful of it and that the delayed goods delivered would pacify him at least a little, as he needed his help again, this time to locate Est Tayiar.

The ruins of the elven palace Est Tayiar in Redania were mentioned several times in the records of the oldest cat school masters as a potential source of exquisite weapons and diagrams, but the records didn’t specify the exact location of the palace or what it had been, exactly, in its heyday. Either way, Kiyan had nothing better to do, except avoid headhunters, so he planned on spending this year on the path searching for treasures. Even if he didn't get his hands on any new weapons, he could always make money selling looted artifacts.

*** * ***

"What's about this Est Tayiar, suddenly everyone is interested in this place," Yosek said after an overdue treasure landed on his counter. It also turned out that the fence was not very angry with Kiyan for not keeping his promise from a year ago, because he had assumed that Kiyan had just been eaten by monsters at Lilvani Temple. 

"Imagine, a local noble is organizing an expedition to these elven ruins.” The fence poured the liquid into two cups and gestured for Kiyan to sit. “Unofficially, I heard they were looking for a bodyguard.” He leaned forward with a grin. “But not just any thug, if you know what I mean."

They were sitting in the small back of Yosek's shabby little shop now, drinking a weak beer.

"I’m not ‘just any thug’," Kiyan muttered, looking in disgust at the cloudy contents of his cup. If an expedition went there, it may mean problems with searching the place. Besides, it looked like these elven ruins were popular here; maybe there was nothing left for him. "And this local noble is who, exactly?"

"Prince Moskovitz of the Sea Cats," Yosek spat out contemptuously. "All Grassy Knoll belongs to him. Some distant relative of the Redanian king, but the monarchy seems not to be very proud of that affiliation."

"Too poor cousin they are ashamed of?" The witcher asked, and sipped the drink. It tasted as bad as it looked.

"Oh no, he has money and influence. It's more of a black sheep situation. Quite literally," Yosek chuckled. "Old Moskovitz traded with Ofier, brought horses from there. Beautiful, strong steeds. In the whole North nobody has ever had better ones. Until one day, he brought a wife from there. Exotic beauty, apparently even from some good and wealthy house, but the Ofieri are strange, who knows what their good and wealthy houses are."

Kiyan looked at the chattering moneylender with cold eyes. He guessed where the story was going, and he didn't like the tone of his interlocutor. The witcher had been in Ofier a few times, and their culture, wealth and manners surpassed the North in every way, but apparently that was beyond the understanding of this Oxenfurt fence. In the North, any stranger, anyone who was different, was unwelcome, as Kiyan knew well.

"Anyway, the new Mrs. Moskovitz was dim, to put it mildly. Not of mind, because she supposedly could count, read, write, and even recite, but on her skin-- "

Finally Yosek reflected, but stopped too late. The wrong words had already been spoken. Kiyan was also silent, piercing him with evil eyes.

"But not like you!" The man raised his hands defensively. "You would be white as a sheet compared to her."

The witcher pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering how that was supposed to sound any better. Kiyan was aware that his skin color was much lighter than that of most Ofieri, but it was still considered dark and unusual here, and when dealing with the people of the kingdoms of the North, simply not accepted. Yosek apparently thought that Kiyan should consider himself better than someone simply by being more light-skinned than they were, even if that someone was an educated woman of high society. A woman who had a surname, a family, and possibly a long ancestral history, while Kiyan could only speculate on his own origins.

"In other words, the Moskovitz family isn’t liked here because they don’t judge others by skin color or origin," Kiyan finally said icily, and Yosek hunched his shoulders under the pressure of the witcher's focused, reptilian gaze. "And the lady of the castle wasn’t popular because she was from overseas and gave birth to a dark-skinned offspring."

"It's not exactly that," muttered the man, still scared by the witcher's face, as if Yosek was afraid that he would hit him in the teeth in a moment. And rightly so, Kiyan wanted to punch him. "I mean, that too, but it made the _old_ prince seem just eccentric. But he generally liked everything that was different. Aside from the fact that he fraternized with the Ofieri, he was passionate about the elves and their art. He was strict and bizarre, but he managed these lands well."

"So what's wrong with the _young_ prince?" The witcher understood from this that it wasn’t the old prince who was the problem here, but his heir.

"The list goes on and on," Yosek pursed his lips as if wondering where to begin. "As long as old Moskovitz was alive, he kept the boy on a tight leash. Young prince had antics from time to time, he liked gambling and booze, but that's like every teenager. Nobody blamed him back then, considering that his father was very hard on him and whipped him for any disobedience. Now it turned out that the old prince probably had a good reason for it. Apparently, it was very difficult to control this devil. Anyway, then, unexpectedly, old Moskovitz died and the heir went unleashed. People are saying that it was the young prince who killed his father, and I wouldn't be surprised. After the senior’s death, the prince replaced all the servants in the castle. Many people lost their jobs, and he even ordered some to be hanged. He got rid of everyone who was loyal to his father; many good village aldermen, stewards and guards were banished. They sat in taverns in Novigrad and Oxenfurt and drank to death, cursing the name of Adrien Moskovitz to the tenth generation. They lost everything. He left them with only the shirt on their backs and dirt behind their fingernails."

"I guess not everything, if they had the money to drink," Kiyan noted dryly, and although the whole story sounded very dramatic, he took into account that it was only one side of the coin.

Everything indicated that the senior prince had been a despotic and brutal father who distorted his son's character. Kiyan recognized this scenario all too well; he knew dozens of his witcher brothers who were "raised" in the same model and reacted strongly during their first independent years on the path. Kiyan was one of them, though he was much luckier than the rest anyway.

"Eh, and what do you know about real life?" Yosek waved his hand, as if to say that he didn’t expect the insensitive mutant to understand the tragedy of these people. But Kiyan understood, he simply saw more than one tragedy here. "Young Moskovitz is fucked up. He has evil, black eyes, like the devil himself. He is cruel, treats peasants very badly, and punishes anyone who dares to go against him brutally. Rumor says that he skin people for disobedience. The Ofieri’s spawn has no respect for tradition. He dresses like them, you know. He doesn't care about the crops, he only cares about goddamn horses and weapons. And he trades like he's a merchant, not someone who is in charge of this land and people."

"I just wonder what came first: his aversion to these lands and these people or your insults and intolerance, because you clearly have a big problem with his Ofieri origins." Kiyan sighed, tired of this indoctrination. He already had a picture of what was going on here and of the devilish heir himself. It was time to find out what the chances were of joining this scientific expedition. After all, that was what had brought him here in the first place. "So the prince is fond of horses, weapons, trade, and flaying his subjects. Honestly, he doesn’t sound much different from the other nobles I've met so far; these are all quite mundane and pragmatic entertainments for them. What doesn't fit this picture is this whole expedition to the elven ruins."

"The prince is a patron of the arts." Yosek shrugged his shoulders, and the witcher raised his eyebrows in disbelief at the news. "Patrons sponsor such expeditions from time to time."

"Well, what do you know, a brutal man, yet sensitive and artistic soul," Kiyan scoffed, looking into his cup to see that it is still full. "What's he got from it?"

"Treasures, what else?" Yosek snorted. "The rich want to be even richer, and it's common knowledge that the elves once slept on gold and artifacts. The prince probably wants to get his hands on them. He put some wise heads from the Oxenfurt Academy together and wants to dig there. They are still stocking the equipment and need someone to protect them."

"You have elven ruins full of treasures and just now there's an expedition going there? The looters must have taken the more valuable things a long time ago."

Yosek shrugged. “Apparently, this pile of rubble is haunted. There were a few daredevils who went there, and none came back. So that's why I'm telling you, it's a job for you. The prince will surely want to hire a witcher for safety. He does have his guards, but what is the use of guards if they shit their pants out of fear?"

Kiyan considered. The initial plan had been to go there on his own, but perhaps he should reconsider. Firstly, he wouldn't want to run into them while he loots this place himself, and secondly, it might be easier and safer if he were to go there as a member of this expedition. He could always choose one of the artifacts as payment, and if the prince was not willing to share, it would be easy to steal something while he was there. Additionally, long-term bodyguard contracts were well paid. And who, if not the prince, should be able to pay for such a service?

"Who do I have to contact to sign up for this expedition?" 

###### *[ Alice Merton - No Roots](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PUdyuKaGQd4&list=PLvPI99UZiOmGK0c6oM9H0Co0z1Czc541x&index=4&t=0s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both Kiyan and Adrien are POC because in our opinion there are too few of them in the Witcher universe. Kiyan is more east-asian type (like Chinese or Japanese). Adrien is Ofieri (so more like west-asian type), because why only have one type of Asian beauty when you can have two?


	2. Get off my back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well you think that you can take me on   
> You must be crazy   
> There ain't a single thing you've done   
> That's gonna phase me 
> 
> Oh, but if you want to have a go  
> I just wanna let you know 
> 
> Get off my back and into my game   
> Get out of my way and out of my brain   
> Get outta my face or give it your best shot   
> I think it's time you better face the fact   
> Get off my back *

Axii turned out to be helpful at the gate leading to Drahim castle. Kiyan met a young guard there, not a very bright boy, who immediately intrigued him. His skin colour and facial features suggested that he was Ofieri. Kiyan thought at first that perhaps the prince was simply hiring Ofieri instead of Redanian soldiers, but the young man was the only dark-skinned person among the guards, at least as far as Kiyan could tell. The young maybe-Ofieri man turned out to be very susceptible to Axii. A little magical suggestion, and the boy was leading him straight to the courtyard to his commander. 

Kiyan shook his head in dismay when the rest of the soldiers didn’t question the clueless youth’s decision. Once the gatekeeper had let the witcher in, not one of the guards looking at him curiously stopped them as they walked deeper into the courtyard. Kiyan thought that if he were their commander, he would thrash them for their incompetence. If someone wanted to pay him to kill an unpopular prince, the task would be more than easy. 

Finally, they reached a battle arena, a cleared pit surrounded by training dummies and sword stands. Kiyan would have expected such a place to be nearer the guards' barracks than the castle courtyard, but then he remembered that the prince was very fond of weapons. It was no wonder he wanted a place nearby to test them. 

In the arena, two men were sparring, and although they were both using wooden swords, it didn't seem to be a safe game. They both wore no armor, dressed only in thin linen shirts, soaked with sweat, and quilted trousers. Each moved with a surety that spoke of years of practice and a strength that told of a fierce desire to win even this mock bout. If this was the intensity of their training, then Kiyan preferred not to guess what a real fight would look like, because their wooden swords looked nearly ready to break. 

"We have to wait until they finish," said the guard who had brought him here. "Don’t disturb the prince while he trains." 

Interesting. Even influenced by Axii, he didn’t dare to interrupt this duel. Kiyan examined the fighters. One of them was at least two meters tall by Kiyan’s estimation, heavyset and muscular. The witcher recognized his mixed fighting style as common among the bandits and pirates of the area. 

The other fighter looked small in comparison, though he wasn't at all. Judging by the dark skin tone of the smaller man, Kiyan thought he must be the infamous prince Moskovitz. Kiyan estimated that he himself was about half a head shorter and probably 10 kilos lighter than the prince. Belying Yosek’s grotesque description, the prince was a handsome man in his late thirties. His wavy black hair was tied in a tight knot at the nape of his neck, and a short, well-groomed beard framed his face. Kiyan believed the prince looked better than good, but the witcher was painfully aware that few in these lands would share his opinion on the man’s beauty. 

The prince's fighting style was intriguing. He made thrusts with his wooden sword correctly, but his footwork was all wrong. He mostly moved forward and back, as if forgetting that he could dodge sideways. It seemed that perhaps the sword wasn’t his weapon of choice.

"Start using your legs!" He growled, unable to stand it anymore when the prince made an ill-judged attack and lost his balance for a moment. A moment later, he had trouble dodging backwards and almost paid for it with a blow to the head. "Get aside!" 

The shout worked, and evidently the connection clicked in his head because he moved into the correct posture and began to work his legs to the sides. 

"So, you do know how to do it," Kiyan muttered to himself, watching the nobleman change his technique dramatically. "Then you should also know how dangerous it is to forget." 

Kiyan's shout caught the attention of one of the men standing at the side of the arena, himself watching the fight. He wasn't a guard, he was too smartly dressed for that, but Kiyan noted the saber stuck in his belt. Even at a glance he could see it was far too long for the person wearing it. A man so short and corpulent wouldn't be able to fight efficiently with something of that size. Not to mention, he didn't look like a fighter at all. When the elegant man moved toward them, disturbed by the sight of Kiyan, the witcher saw from his movements that this man knew nothing about fencing. 

"Gisbert, what's going on here, who is this man?" He asked the guard reprovingly when he got close enough. 

The question broke Axii's influence, and the boy looked around confusedly. Kiyan didn't wait for any more complications to emerge. 

"I'm a witcher, I'm looking for a job," he explained before the guard could reply. "I heard the prince is looking for a bodyguard to protect a scientific expedition. I'm here to talk to the captain of the prince's guard, and this nice young man told me that I would find him here." 

The elegant man looked over his shoulder, glancing at the men fighting in the arena. 

"I’m the prince's majordomo," his interlocutor said finally. "And your meeting wasn’t prearranged. It is an affront to show up unannounced." 

Kiyan shrugged. "I'm sorry for my lack of manners, but I'm already here, so we might as well do this now." 

"The prince and captain are busy," the majordomo stated firmly, and Kiyan realized that the prince's sparring partner was the captain of the guard he was looking for.

The distinctive sound of broken wood drew their attention back to what was going on in the arena. 

The prince had swung with such great force that the captain's dummy sword broke even as the jolt sent it flying from his hand. Kiyan raised his eyebrows, impressed. This prince was savage. 

"It looks like they've just finished," Kiyan pointed out, and the majordomo huffed irritably. "Please announce me, and we'll both get it over with." 

The majordomo hesitated, but apparently decided his best option was to notify the captain of the intruder as soon as possible, so he started down the stairs to the arena. 

Kiyan was able to overhear their conversation thanks to sensitive hearing. The majordomo was just explaining how the witcher had gotten here, and Kiyan glanced at the still very lost Gisbert. 

"You'd better go back to your post, kid," he advised mercifully, and used Axii on him again. "If anyone asks you about me, deny everything." 

The guard, once again caught in the spell, obediently departed. 

"A witcher?" The prince raised his voice with interest when the majordomo told him _who_ had come to the castle to look for a job. The nobleman immediately abandoned his conversation with his servants, looked up, and spoke directly to Kiyan. "I’ve not fought a witcher before. And I've heard quite a lot about your inhuman abilities. Will you do me this honor, Master Witcher, and satisfy my curiosity?" 

Kiyan felt an unexpected stab of disappointment. Upon hearing of him, Kiyan had felt a hint of sympathy for a man as alienated as himself, but it turned out that he was just another noble who thought others existed for his entertainment. 

"I don't play with toys," Kiyan said finally, glaring contemptuously at the wooden sword in the prince's hand. 

The captain growled something under his breath about the witcher's big mouth, and the majordomo gave him an indignant look. The prince, however, despite the displeasure of his servants, laughed aloud and tossed the dummy sword aside. 

"Klemens, my saber," he said then to the majordomo, who, with unconcealed hesitation, handed him the weapon in the ornate scabbard that he had stuck in his belt. 

The prince bared the blade and presented it to the witcher. "Better?" 

Kiyan narrowed his eyes at the sudden glare of sunlight on the blade. The saber was indeed beautiful, a true work of art by an Ofieri blacksmith. The saber also explained the prince's strange footwork: sword fighting was as different from saber fighting as day from night. 

The prince bowed elegantly and low, as if inviting Kiyan to a dance, then raised his treacherous black eyes to the witcher. 

Kiyan prided himself on being aloof with strangers, and normally he wouldn’t have fallen for such obvious provocation, but in his entire life no nobleman had ever bowed to him before. There was something in the prince's expectant gaze that he couldn't resist, and before Kiyan could think about what he was doing, his legs were carrying him down the steps and into the arena. 

"Oh, fuck," the captain whispered softly under his breath as the witcher and prince faced each other, staring relentlessly at one another. Kiyan knew only he had heard it.

Kiyan was about to open his mouth to establish the rules of their match, but he caught the prince's rapid movement and reacted instinctively. In a flash he pulled his steel sword from his back and blocked the nobleman's blow. 

"You're fast," the prince noted, amused, and he broke the connection and charged again with merciless force. 

"No shit," Kiyan growled in response, irritated that the cretin had nearly gotten the drop on him. If he hadn't parried in time, that move could have given him a serious wound. It seemed the prince didn’t like to play by the rules, lacked basic manners, or both. 

As Kiyan had suspected, the prince was taller and broader than he, and there was no point in wrestling with him. Kiyan's fingers itched to use a Sign and show this cocky bastard that it was a bad idea to take on a witcher without thinking, but he restrained himself. 

Instead, he’d let the little shit have a false sense of advantage, all the better to crush him later. Kiyan let himself feel his rage briefly, then channeled it into his sword strokes. This buffoon would have to try harder if he wanted to get a rise out of him. 

Kiyan parried two more hard blows and finally delivered a clean strike. The prince jumped back, but immediately began to press him again, and the witcher noticed a change in his tactics. When fighting the captain, he had dodged and kept his distance, a wise choice with a taller opponent. However, Kiyan was smaller and faster than the prince, so the man tried to close the distance so as not to allow the witcher to use his full potential. 

_Just wait, you little shit. I don't have to use my full potential to wipe the floor with you._

Kiyan dodged smoothly, his feet moving in the dancing steps of the Cat school style; the prince had very strong arms, so wrestling with him could be exhausting. This was typical of saber fighters, where the cuts came from the hand and wrist, so the fighter had to have a lot of strength in his arms. The witcher was also impressed by the prince's condition and stamina. He had just fought a wild duel with the captain, a powerful giant, yet he was attacking now as if he were at full strength. 

_He runs on adrenaline,_ Kiyan thought as he parried another blow and spun smoothly into an attack. _He's excited, it turns him on, he could run through a stone wall and not even notice. It's intimidating, but it won't last for long._

Kiyan smirked. _Okay, Mr. Intense, let's pick up the pace._

The witcher used another wide swing of the prince's saber and jumped like an acrobat, horizontally, twisting high above the blade and aiming a kick straight at his opponent's head. The prince moved away at the last moment and the witcher's foot missed him by inches. If Kiyan had hit him, the fight would be over. Many _witchers_ were unable to get up after a blow dealt with such speed and force. A human, even a well trained one, had no chance. The downside was that it was difficult to target well. Kiyan was good at it, but the prince had excellent reflexes. 

"What the fuck was that?" the prince gasped, pausing for a moment to look at the witcher with incredulous eyes. 

In response, Kiyan just smiled, baring his teeth, and shot forward. The prince was about to learn of the Cat school’s famous agility first hand. He barely dodged when Kiyan struck again, launching attacks from above one after another, faster and faster. The jumps gave the witcher the speed and strength his arms lacked when confronted with the prince’s strength. 

"Too slow!" Kiyan hissed when the prince barely got his sword up to block in time. The witcher ruthlessly took advantage of the nobleman’s exposed side and punched it with his left fist. Cats didn't play fair. 

The blow forced the air out of the prince's lungs, and the man instinctively lowered his hands to protect his side as he jumped back, trying to increase the distance and give himself a moment to catch his breath. The aggressive opening of this match had started to turn against the prince. The exhaustion was slowly kicking in; his breathing was shallow. Kiyan just had to push him a little more and he wouldn't be able to keep up. 

Kiyan slowed down. He could have gone even faster and more brutal with his attacks, but finally his sanity came to the fore and reminded him that this match wasn’t about killing his opponent. Besides, he had to admit that the prince was a good fighter for a human. It was rare that a human had enough skill to make the witcher forget himself and rise to a higher level, listening to his instincts. Kiyan had the advantage of experience and his mutant body, and at the pace he imposed, it was a miracle that the nobleman was still able to keep up with dodges and blocks. 

"Are you ready to admit my victory?" Kiyan asked as he graciously gave the prince a moment to catch another breath. "I'd rather not shed blood; I have a feeling your servants wouldn’t be pleased about that." 

Indeed, the guards watching the fight were on the edge of their seats, ready to attack should anything happen to their prince. Therefore, Kiyan, despite having had several opportunities, had refrained from cutting the nobleman. He felt that the situation would surely have gotten out of hand then. And to be fair, the witcher had to admit that several times,the prince had had the opportunity to cut him, but each time the saber had hit him with the flat of the blade. The witcher was sure it wasn’t a coincidence. 

"Servants are servants; it isn’t about pleasing them." The prince straightened and gave Kiyan a burning stare that clearly showed that the witcher was here to please _him_. His scent revealed that he didn't have enough, that he wanted much more. The prince was excited. It looked like the harder the fight was, the more turned on he got. 

Kiyan had to admit that he was excited himself. Of course, he was also irritated by the prince's arrogance and how the bastard treated him as his fighting toy, but... It wasn't just sparring; Kiyan was having too much fun. The prince kept him on edge and triggered his very primal instincts. On the one hand, Kiyan really wanted to dominate him and put him in his place, give this moron a well-deserved lesson; on the other hand, he wanted to indulge him so that the prince would show his full potential. Well, that meant it was time to end this before someone got hurt, because this nobleman's self-control was non-existent and Kiyan was slowly starting to lose his. 

The witcher was considering being the wiser man and just withdrawing, though it wasn't in his nature, but the situation really was getting more and more weird and dangerous. He hadn’t had time to consider the matter fully when the prince attacked. The force with which he hit was incredible; Kiyan had managed to block him, but felt the blow strongly in the bones of his forearms. Kiyan had to wonder from where this bastard took so much strength; he should have fallen exhausted long ago. 

"Come on," encouraged the prince, putting pressure on Kiyan. "This is all the infamous witcher can do? I'm disappointed." 

Kiyan’s careful control snapped. Frenzy mixed with adrenaline mobilized his mutant body and the witcher pushed the prince away with a fierce growl that came from the depths of his throat. The prince laughed cheerfully at that, as if he were just teasing an unruly kitten when he had actually enraged a wild panther. 

Kiyan didn’t let his opponent enjoy the moment. After he pushed the prince away, the witcher changed positions in a flash, crouched down and delivered a kick, cutting the prince's legs out from under him. The man fell on his back, and Kiyan kicked his saber out of his hand and used his foot to pin the prince's chest to the ground, pressing painfully on his sternum. Kiyan aimed his blade at his neck and stopped it barely a hair from his throat. 

"Don't get up," the witcher hissed, trying to control his own raging breath. He was still enraged. No bloody coxcomb with a fancy saber would tell him that he was disappointed with him. "Or I'll cut you a second smile." 

The prince laughed shortly, but obediently lay on the ground. Kiyan felt the man's muscles relax under his feet and his breathing began to slow down. It looked like he had finally given up. 

"It is polite to let the host win," The captain remarked sternly, putting his hand on the witcher's shoulder and clenching his fingers tightly. Kiyan fought back the reflex to shake it off; he understood it was a warning. 

"I don't know much about being polite," replied the witcher, taking the blade from the prince's throat. When he did so, the captain also took his hand from his shoulder. For a moment longer, the witcher and the prince looked at each other, the prince still idiotically amused. "But where I’m from, it is polite to take my opponent seriously and not to give them head start." 

He didn't mention that it was also polite to set the rules before the beginning of a match. He didn't mention a lot of things that he didn't like when he took his leg from the prince’s chest and offered him a hand to help him up. 

"And where is the Master from?" The prince asked cheerfully as if nothing had happened, grasping the offered hand firmly. 

"From nowhere." Kiyan pulled him back to his feet. "My school has been destroyed. Like many others." 

The prince's eyes fixed on Kiyan's medallion. The witcher waited calmly for a reaction. It happened several times that, after having his school verified, he was either immediately attacked or reported, because his head, as well as the heads of other surviving witchers from the Cat school, was assigned a considerable reward. There was a time when he hid his identity from his principals, but the truth was always revealed sooner or later anyway. Plus, he just didn't like lying about who he was. After all, his witcher identity, his belonging to the Cats, was the only legacy he had. 

"A Cat," the prince said, then looked up to confront the witcher's gaze. "Interesting. Isn’t there a reward for your heads?" 

"Yes," Kiyan admitted openly. "But I trust that someone who lives in this castle can afford not to pay attention to it." 

The prince smiled charmingly, showing a row of neat white teeth, and the witcher briefly forgot how to breathe. That smile was bloody beautiful and dangerous. 

"They say you are crazy, aggressive, brutal, and unpredictable," the nobleman continued, his smile still on his lips. 

"Funny," Kiyan replied, tilting his head slightly. "They say the same thing about you. And judging from what I've just experienced - they're right." 

"You--!" the captain began menacingly, but the prince waved him back. 

"May I ask who you heard this slander from?" The nobleman asked calmly, but his gaze was cold and focused. 

"I understand the prince is asking because he wishes to send them a greeting card?" Kiyan sneered. 

"I ask because it looks like I haven't had anyone skinned for too long, since the rabble have the nerve to talk about me behind my back." 

"Ah, yes, this is what I missed, working with the peasants. There is nothing like the sensitive ego of the nobility." 

"Master, you are allowing yourself too much, this is a clear disrespect for the prince's title and majesty!" The majordomo finally couldn't stand it. 

"So please pass to the prince's title and majesty that this is nothing personal. I have only made a modest observation for my own use." 

The majordomo almost boiled and the captain of the guard gave Kiyan a murderous look. 

"You are barking loudly for someone who is looking for a job and is wanted dead or alive," the prince remarked lightly, before any of his companions could attack the witcher, verbally or physically. However, the nobleman's smile had shifted to become more predatory now. And that was fucking attractive too. "Can I use the word 'barking' to address a witcher from the Cat school, or is it an affront?" 

"Using this word is generally an affront, regardless of profession or school," Kiyan replied calmly, unmoved by the prince's impertinence. "Someone who grew up in a noble court should be aware of this." 

There was something in this whole exchange that neither the majordomo nor the captain noticed, but the prince picked up flawlessly and simply accepted the challenge. It was a continuation of their sparring, this time with words. They teased each other as they checked the border. 

"Ah, see, apparently you do know something about being polite," said the prince with a twinkle in his eyes. His scent betrayed excitement again, which only convinced Kiyan that he was enjoying the exchange too. "You're so cheeky, I like it. And you are a great swordsman. I'm going to hire you." 

The witcher immediately brought himself into line at those words. He might tease the conceited prince, but when this prince turned into an employer, the tone had to change. 

"Good to know." The witcher shook the prince's hand to officially seal the new cooperation. "My name is Kiyan." 

"Prince Adrien Moskovitz of the Sea Cats." The prince returned the handshake with a crooked smirk on his face. "But please, call me Adrien." 

Kiyan could hear the captain's teeth grinding and the grunt of an indignant majordomo behind him. The witcher guessed that calling the prince by name was a rare privilege on the edge of an offense. It was time to end this game and start behaving professionally. 

"The prince will forgive me, but I have a rule that I’m not so familiar with my employers," the witcher stated decisively. 

"Oh, dear witcher, I can't wait to see how we can break this rule," said the prince cheerfully, and before Kiyan could answer, he called out to his majordomo. "Klemens, prepare a room for our guest and a bath for me. And captain, please reprimand Gisbert physically for letting the witcher in here." 

_We'll see what will be broken first: my rules or your spine,_ Kiyan thought, annoyed again, but followed the prince and his men back to the castle. He had some bad feelings about this cooperation. 

*[Bryan Adams](https://youtu.be/UgPpu6Qss2s)[ \- Get Off My Back](https://youtu.be/UgPpu6Qss2s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we have Chapter 2! Please appreciate the team work in this one, especially [Gav's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavilan/pseuds/Gavilan) and [Dany's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanyTheET/pseuds/DanyTheET), because I think I gave them a lot of trouble making this text something readable. I'm so happy that we were able to publish this chapter exactly two weeks after the first one. I don't know yet if we will be able to maintain this standard, but we will try. 
> 
> I don't know if you paid attention to it, but we didn't go into the character descriptions too deeply - we wanted you to be able to visualize the characters according to your imaginations. However, if any of you are curious about how we imagine main characters, I'm giving you a visualization below.
> 
> As for Adrien, the whole group unanimously decided to give him the appearance of [Kunal Kapoor](https://images.cinemaexpress.com/uploads/user/imagelibrary/2019/6/16/original/925883935s.jpg). Because ... wow. From what I remember, [Lynge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynge/works) proposed this choice and we all immediately shouted "YES!" :)
> 
> It was harder with Kiyan. It was hard for us to agree completely, but in the end my proposal to choose [Byung-hun Lee](http://i1192.photobucket.com/albums/aa324/girlfridaydb/news/2014/LeeByungHeon1.jpg) got the most votes.
> 
> Please let us know in the comments how you like our project so far. We will be glad to hear from you! <3 
> 
> Advena


	3. I wanna do bad things with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyan didn’t keep an ordinary journal; his sketchbook and drawings served as documentation of his memories. He drew the places he went and the people he met because he had a talent for drawing and saw putting his thoughts into words as too troublesome, and dangerous besides. The pictures brought back the right memories without revealing his thoughts. Additionally, sketching calmed him down. And he needed a lot of calm now, because the prince was seriously testing his patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you came in, the air went out  
> And every shadow filled up with doubt  
> I don't know who you think you are  
> But before the night is through  
> I wanna do bad things with you 
> 
> I'm the kind to sit up in his room  
> Heart sick and eyes filled up with blue  
> I don't know what you've done to me  
> But I know this much is true  
> I wanna do bad things with you *

Adrien had been making him cool his heels for two days, and Kiyan was sick of it. All he wanted was to check the route to Est Tayiar, to calculate the safest route for fully laden wagons and verify the reports of hauntings or monsters in the ruins. But yesterday, the damned prince had demanded Titus’s attention right before they were due to leave, claiming some urgent business. Today, Adrien hadn’t even bothered with a claim of urgency. He had taken Titus away from his duty as Kiyan’s supposed guide to the ruins to play with swords in the arena. When Kiyan had protested, Adrien had waved him away, claiming there was no reason to hurry since neither the supplies nor the scholars would arrive for several days. Kiyan just wanted to look around the temples, check them for wraiths _before_ he was stuck with a team of scholars who would be nothing but a liability. But the prince stopped him at every turn, forcing him to sit idly and seethe with impatient energy.

The witcher was now sitting on the stone balustrade of the castle tower, his sketchbook on his lap, watching Adrien struggle with Titus. Initially, his aim had been to sketch a landscape of the Novigrad skyline he could see from the tower. Kiyan didn’t keep an ordinary journal; his sketchbook and drawings served as documentation of his memories. He drew the places he went and the people he met because he had a talent for drawing and saw putting his thoughts into words as too troublesome, and dangerous besides. The pictures brought back the right memories without revealing his thoughts. Additionally, sketching calmed him down. And he needed a lot of calm now, because the prince was seriously testing his patience. However, before he knew it, instead of Novigrad, his hand began to mechanically and quickly sketch all the wrong stances he had observed in Adrien. The prince, accustomed to saber fighting, was stubbornly trying to switch to a double-edged sword and evidently had a problem with getting rid of old habits. However, the captain was not a suitable sparring partner for him, because he didn’t correct his mistakes. 

Kiyan considered the prince as his hand wandered across the page. Adrien had strength, reflexes, and a whole lot of stubbornness and commitment in a fight. Someone had evidently taught him how to fight with a saber very well, and he also knew the basics of a sword. He had probably been trained in the sword as a child, but at one point switched to the saber and forgot his childhood lessons. As a fan of various weapons, the prince probably wanted to be fluent in all types of swords. Kiyan just didn't understand why he hadn't brought in a professional tutor. Titus was a strong and dangerous opponent, but it was obvious that he was also self-taught, fighting like a pirate or bandit. The witcher had noticed several tattoos on his forearms, suggesting that the captain's past was turbulent. He wasn’t a good teacher; the only thing the prince could learn from him was how to avoid the dirty tricks of the average thug. It was hard for Kiyan to admit it, but he regretted refusing to spar with Adrien. However, he still had their last fight in mind, and his common sense screamed that confronting the prince again wasn't a good idea. It was like tempting fate. Kiyan had a hard time controlling himself when Adrien was sweaty and excited in front of him.

The witcher finally looked consciously at what his hand was doing on the pages of the sketchbook and made a face of embarrassment. It was clear that he had to find another place for himself, because the view of the arena and the prince wet with sweat was too distracting. Maybe instead of sitting here idly waiting for Adrien to graciously give him a guide, he should go into the city and fix at least this problem.

"Here you are, Master!" Kiyan heard a cheer behind him and nearly jumped out of his skin. Normally, it was very difficult to surprise him, but his thoughts had been in a completely different place.

The witcher looked back and saw Gisbert approaching. He closed the sketchbook abruptly, making a mental note that he would have to tear out the page with that last sketch.

"I've been looking for you everywhere!" the boy said, clearly pleased that he had finally managed to find the witcher. "Lunch will begin shortly, and the prince has asked me to tell you that after the meal he would like to go on a tour of the area with you. He asked you to come to the stables after you eat."

After Gisbert, under the influence of Axii, let the witcher into the castle, the boy had been supposed to get a few lashes, but instead, his punishment was merely a demotion to helping the servants of the castle. Today, he served at the stables. The boy was following orders with enthusiasm, but it was obvious that he felt humiliated. The guards always had a better status than the servants.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, and the fact that you try to be nice to me," said Kiyan while collecting his things, in addition to a sketchbook and coals, he also had a map of the area with him. "But you don't have to pretend to like me. It is because of me that the prince is angry with you."

"If he was really angry with me, he would have banished me." The boy just shrugged. "And since you showed up, the prince has been in a really good mood, so I have every reason to be nice to you, Master."

Kiyan looked over his shoulder at the arena as if to see the prince's good mood with his own eyes. The only thing he managed to see was that Adrien and Titus had just finished their sparring and were heading towards the bathhouse. It looked as if they were also getting ready for lunch. The witcher, however, was disturbed by the information that it was the prince who had undertaken to be his guide. Although Titus made it clear that he didn’t like the witcher, he was a solid man. With him as a guide, Kiyan could rest assured that he would get things done quickly and efficiently. With Adrien, he couldn't be sure of anything.

*

Kiyan was just about to enter the stables when a strange noise came to his ears. At first, it sounded as if someone were talking in a low voice, but the witcher quickly realized that wasn’t the case. First, there was only one voice, and second, Kiyan couldn't recognize the words, though he could hear them very clearly. He thought it might be a spell, but it wasn't elder speech, even though the words sounded familiar. Finally, the connection in his brain found its way to the corresponding memory. It was Ofieri.

Kiyan peeked inside the stables and saw Adrien himself, feeding the horses with apples. The witcher had already noticed the prince's steeds when he quartered his own mare in this stable. The princely horses were extraordinary in that, in addition to being healthy, strong, and over-groomed, they also had curled ear tips. The witcher had seen horses like these before, during his visit in Ofier. These types of horses, called D'yaebl Evall - devil horses - by foreigners because of the shape of their ears resembling horns, were considered warriors’ mounts in Ofieri culture. Noble, infinitely loyal, and carefully bred, with pedigrees that rivaled noble houses for their intricacy and esteem. Only a very wealthy person could afford such a steed. Adrien, despite being a Redanian prince and only half Ofieri, had a whole stable full of them, all with perfectly curled ears. Kiyan wondered if, by any chance, the prince's stud was worth more than his land. Adrien's treasure hunt made a little more sense now. In order to keep these horses, the prince had to keep increasing his fortune.

Adrien presented the last of his horses with an apple, stroking the animal's head and lovingly speaking to it in Ofieri. Kiyan didn't know all the words, but he knew Ofieri well enough to know that they were the praise and admiration proper to a proud parent praising their baby. The witcher stifled a smile with difficulty; it was so fucking cute, and it didn’t match the image of Adrien he had been building so far. There was something mesmerizing about the prince's low and soothing voice, and how his large strong hands slowly stroked the mighty animal. The prince was dressed in a high-collared black and gold robe peculiar to the Ofieri nobility. His entire outfit reflected the Ofieri fashion trends; only his high boots were Northern, Redanian riding boots in fine brown leather. Kiyan was still amazed at how prejudices made this unusually handsome man almost a descendant of the devil here.

Finally, the prince's eyes fell on Kiyan's horse standing in the corner of the pen. The witcher's dappled gray mare was nibbling at the hay, unmoved by the presence of the nobleman or his juicy apples. Kiyan watched with amusement as Adrien held out his hand with the fruit toward his indifferent horse. 

" ** _Hello pretty girl_** ," the prince said in a gentle voice, still in Ofieri. " ** _I have something good for you here._ **"

The horse gave Adrien a hostile glare and pinned her ears back. Kiyan thought with pride that his mare wasn’t an easy girl. Despite this clear warning, the prince continued in his efforts.

" ** _Don't be shy. These are apples from my orchard. They are sweet and juicy_** ** _._** "

 _It's not shyness_ , thought the witcher. _If you continue to bother her, she will bite off your hand._

For the time being, the mare chose a peaceful solution and unceremoniously turned her rump to the prince. Kiyan had to put his hand over his mouth to suppress a burst of laughter.

" ** _All right, it was rude_** ** _,_** " Adrien pretended to be indignant, but the witcher caught a note of amusement and affection in his voice. " ** _What's your name, fussy lady?_ **"

" ** _Her name is_ ** Hilargi," Kiyan said finally, also in Ofieri, and left his hideout. " _ **Are you flirting with my horse, prince? I honestly warn you that it is very difficult to charm this girl.** _"

Adrien jumped slightly and looked at the witcher with wide eyes.

" _ **You know Ofieri?** _" Asked the prince, very surprised, perhaps not so much by the sudden appearance of Kiyan as by his knowledge of a foreign language.

"A bit," admitted the witcher, speaking in Common now and approaching Adrien. At the same time, he removed the kerchief from around his neck. "I have been in Ofier several times, and knowing the language in a foreign land is the basis of survival. May I?”

Kiyan held out his hand, expecting the prince to hand him his. Adrien frowned, not sure what Kiyan was asking, but nevertheless gave him his hand, which was still holding the apple. He probably expected the witcher to take a fruit that his mare despised. And in fact, Kiyan took the apple, put it in his mouth, and used both hands to tie a kerchief around the prince's palm. When Kiyan finished, he took a bite of the apple and put it back into Adrien's hand.

"There, now you smell like me; try again," the witcher ordered him, pointing to his mare. The prince, however, didn’t take his intense black eyes off Kiyan. Adrien looked like he wanted to say something, but no words fell in the tense silence between them. 

"Something wrong?" The witcher returned his gaze with equal force, breaking this moment of awkward silence. It felt weird. As if he had something heavy on his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe.

The prince's mouth twitched slightly. His scent had changed as well, but the change was too subtle for Kiyan to be clear what it was about. He had known Adrien too briefly to catch these nuances. But undoubtedly Adrien's pulse sped up slightly; the prince was restless.

"No," said the prince at last, and he turned to the witcher's mare. "Hilargi, come here girl!"

The mare twitched her ears and looked at both men, her eyes still wary. Nevertheless, she slowly moved towards them. Adrien offered her an apple again, and Hilargi sniffed for the treat. But Kiyan could see clearly that she was still hesitating, so he stepped closer to the prince to give the mare a signal that everything was fine. This stranger is a friend, she can take food from him.

"Why is she so distrustful?" Adrien asked quietly, standing absolutely still as Hilargi finally dared to reach for the apple and brushed her lips against his hand.

Kiyan was standing so close now that he could see the goosebumps on the prince's neck. Adrien's smell, in turn, betrayed nervousness more and more clearly. The witcher didn’t intend to stress him or intimidate him with his presence, but he felt a faint impulse of satisfaction at the thought that he had brought the nobleman a little bit out of balance. Surrounded by his guards and servants, Adrien was so frustratingly confident. Now that they were alone here, he was just tense.

"A witcher's horse shares the fate of its owner," Kiyan explained, deliberately letting his breath touch Adrien's skin on the back of his neck. "People often, without the power to get to me, at least try to harm what is mine. The horse is usually the first target on their list."

This time, Kiyan clearly caught a hint of anger in the prince's scent as the man reached out to stroke the mare. Hilargi didn't like it; she jerked her head up sharply to avoid the stranger's touch, and Adrien stepped back, stumbling slightly as the movement pushed him into Kiyan, as close as they were standing. Kiyan impulsively covered Adrien's hand with his own as he steadied him. The prince's pulse sped up at the touch of skin on skin. Kiyan clearly heard the thunder of his rapid heartbeat. 

“Sorry,” said the witcher, taking his hand away, stepping back immediately, and cast Axii to soothe Hilargi's anxiety. He should have started with this. Adrien hadn’t seemed like someone who would be concerned about the violation of his personal space, but his elevated heart rate showed otherwise. Kiyan wasn’t in the habit of closing distances so drastically, not just with strangers but even with the few friends he had. He didn't know why it was so easy for him with the prince. 

”Oh, don't be.” Adrien smirked, and Kiyan's breath froze for a moment at the sight. “It looks like you are both very reserved, but we'll work on that.”

 _What the hell was that supposed to mean?_ Kiyan thought, surprised, because the prince's tone clearly indicated that they had just stopped talking about horses. Before he could ask, an excited Gisbert entered the stables.

”The captain said you were going to Ursten!” he called from the threshold, looking at Adrien with a pleading look. "Please, my prince, may I come with you?"

”Wait a minute, Ursten?” Kiyan asked before Adrien could give any answer. Something was wrong here; he had studied the map of the area, Ursten wasn’t on the way. ”That village is in the opposite direction from Est Tayiar.”

”I have an errand to do there; it won't take long,” the prince pursed his lips, trying to belittle the matter. ”Then we can take a trip to the ruins.”

”This isn’t a trip, I’m trying to work here.” Kiyan tried with all his might to remain calm. ”I have been asking for a guide for two days.”

”And today you'll get one.” Adrien waved his hand dismissively, and Kiyan sincerely wanted to break it. "But for now, please come with me to Ursten. To make it faster, we can even do a small race; I'm very curious if the capricious Hilargi is also so temperamental during the run.”

”She’s not a racehorse, and besides-” Kiyan protested, but Adrien wouldn't let him finish.

”Gisbert! Get my horse ready. If you are ready in ten minutes minutes, you can come with us,” he ordered, and Gisbert almost jumped with joy as he set to work.

Kiyan felt absolutely ignored, and that made him even more angry. The prince probably thought that Kiyan was his next henchman, someone whom he could boss around. It was obvious that the nobleman had to be corrected, but for the moment, Kiyan checked his temper and started to saddle his horse. He hoped that if he backed off now, Adrien would finally give him a guide, as promised. But his patience was really running out.

*[ **Jace Everett - Bad Things** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMPNjPpdjKU)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 is here! It's short, but we have here horses with curled ears, entirely modeled on [Marwari horses](https://www.globetrotting.com.au/horse-breed-marwari-horse/). This HC was brought to us by Gav and I must say we fell in love with it right away. 
> 
> Together with the Marwari horses, came to us this idea to make Adrien's entire aesthetic to be Ofieri (or maybe this idea was the first and then we thought about horses?). You know: the saber, his clothes, the Ofieri horses - all of this is his very conscious choice. I think Gav put it best when we discussed Adrien's character: "I'm imagining that his whole VERY FOREIGN aesthetic is a deliberate choice. He's not Ofieri, he only knows his mother's stories, and he was raised to be a Redanian prince. But he is perpetually an outsider because of the racism around him, so after his father dies he decides he might as well lean into what everyone thinks of him anyway. So he learns to use the Ofieri saber, and wears silk robes, and imports Marwari horses."
> 
> And if you are curious, while writing this chapter I had an image of [THIS](https://www.bargello.com/style-m342) outfit for Adrien in my mind (maybe minus the shawl). All of Adrien's Ofieri clothes are based on sherwani worn in the Indian subcontinentand.
> 
> Please let us know in the comments how you like our project so far. We will be glad to hear from you! <3
> 
> Advena


	4. Heathens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The witcher knew all too well that getting involved in political problems was nothing but trouble and would only draw unwanted attention to him. Adrien should have told him what the visit to the village was about. He should have given him the opportunity to refuse. Kiyan felt manipulated, and it wasn't the first time a prince had acted like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my friends are heathens, take it slow  
> Wait for them to ask you who you know  
> Please don't make any sudden moves  
> You don't know the half of the abuse *

They raced all the way to Ursten. It seemed that the prince didn’t move anywhere without an escort: along with Gisbert, their party included the captain and another guard, Olaf.

The result of this race was obviously a foregone conclusion. Hilargi had many advantages, but she wasn't a racehorse. On the other hand, the prince's steed, Perun, was a strong black stallion with curled ears who was born to run. Kiyan hadn’t thought such a fast horse could walk in this world.

"What kept you behind Master, I thought you were in a hurry," the prince laughed when the witcher finally joined him at the very entrance to Ursten. 

_Conceited bastard_ , Kiyan thought as he studied Adrien's triumphant smile. It should be forbidden to make a person so annoying so attractive. _Nothing to brag about, it's not a feat to win when you're riding a fucking lightning bolt._

"Please don't worry, Master," Gisbert said helpfully. "Perun is the fastest horse in the North, I don't think it's possible to overtake him. The prince is very proud of him."

Gisbert's curly-eared horse reached the finish line slightly ahead of Hilargi. The witcher arrived third, followed by Olaf. At the end was Titus, but that came as no surprise. The captain was a lot of ballast for his horse, and he wasn’t pushing it at all.

Adrien entered the village without another word, though his laughter was still evident in his expression. Kiyan shook his head disapprovingly, but he had to admit that the race had been quite fun. The witcher didn’t have many opportunities to socialize through play. Hilargi had enjoyed the race, too. Her ears were pricked, head held high, and she pranced into the village even as her sides heaved from the exertion. 

However, the mood quickly deteriorated when they dismounted in front of the ealdorman's house. They were greeted by a group of five men and the ealdorman himself. One of the men, evidently a nobleman, regarded Adrien with a steadfast gaze and nodded at him in a modest greeting. Titus growled at the sight of it, muttering insults at the nobleman and his guards. From what Kiyan understood, the nobleman was a baron and owed the prince a bow, yet neither he nor his men had shown Adrien any respect. Only the village leader behaved properly, but the man's body language screamed that he didn’t consider this bow deserved. Adrien, however, completely ignored the breach of etiquette and summoned Titus and Olaf to him, ordering Gisbert and the witcher to go to the river to water the horses.

"What is this about?" Kiyan asked when Adrien, the baron, the ealdorman, and the guards they had chosen had disappeared into the ealdorman's house. He and Gisbert collected the horses and set off toward the river.

"It's not that I know the details," Gisbert explained. "It's probably a dispute over land. The river marks the border between Temeria and Redania. The father of our prince and the baron's father, the previous ruler in Crow's Perch, were also arguing over this piece of land."

"And they meet at the ealdorman's hut to discuss it?" Kiyan asked suspiciously. "Where's the mediator, the independent party? Or a representative of one of the kings? Messenger, ambassador? This isn’t an internal conflict between two nobles, it's about national borders."

"I don't know," Gisbert shrugged, "it seems like an informal meeting. The baron wouldn’t come to the prince, and the prince wouldn’t visit the baron. They met halfway. And this village is the subject of a conflict, after all, so I guess it's a good place. All I know is that the condition for the negotiations was that they were held here, and each of them could only take four men."

Kiyan gritted his teeth. No one had asked him if he wanted to be the prince’s fourth man. The witcher knew all too well that getting involved in political problems was nothing but trouble and would only draw unwanted attention to him. Adrien should have told him what the visit to the village was about. He should have given him the opportunity to refuse. Kiyan felt manipulated, and it wasn't the first time a prince had acted like this.

The river was right at the end of the main road that passed through Ursten. The road ended at the water's edge, and large red-painted stones indicated that there was a ford here. There was also a small wooden watchtower with Adrien's guard on it. Kiyan suddenly realized that it wasn't about the village and the land, but about the ford across the river. Not far from here was the Hindhold and the official bridge across the Pontar, and the right to carry goods through it was established by an agreement between the kings. This ford wasn’t on the maps; it was an unofficial passage that both the baron and Adrien must use when trading. Adrien dictated the terms because he was standing for the baron on the road to Novigrad. The dispute had to be about money, about an unwritten contract between the nobles. This was why there was no mediator here, and the negotiations took place informally in a small group. Both Adrien and the baron acted to the detriment of their kings by transporting goods behind their backs and probably avoiding paying duty.

Kiyan and Gisbert passed the watchtower and the village women doing the laundry in the river, and finally let the horses drink. As they passed the villagers, Kiyan's medallion trembled and the witcher became alert. He eyed the women suspiciously. One of them, red-haired, dressed in expensive dresses, with dark, aggressive makeup on her face, clearly didn’t fit the picture. She was sitting next to a young, fair-haired girl who was doing laundry in a wooden tub, but not working herself. When Kiyan looked at her, she also looked back, furrowing her black eyebrows thoughtfully.

"Who is that woman?" The witcher turned toward Gisbert and pointed discreetly in the direction of the washerwomen.

"What woman?" Gisbert asked, turning his head. The witcher caught the sudden change in the boy's scent and the rapid beating of his heart. "Oh, you mean Roma? The ealdorman's daughter?"

Kiyan looked at the women again, but the redhead was no longer there, only the blonde girl who was doing laundry in the tub. Gisbert didn’t take his dreamy eyes off her. "Master also thinks she is very beautiful?"

Okay, that explained Gisbert's enthusiasm for visiting Ursten. It didn't explain who the other woman was and where the hell she had disappeared so suddenly and imperceptibly.

Roma must have felt their eyes on her as she looked up from the laundry and gave Gisbert an angry glare. It seemed that the girl wasn’t thrilled with the interest of one of the prince's guards.

"I'm sorry to say this, kid, but I'm afraid Roma isn't interested in you." Kiyan was pretty sure of that. Since Adrien, who was a prince here, was disliked for his skin color, his guard, who was equally dark, had no chance. "And I meant her red-haired companion, who has now disappeared somewhere. She looked rather bourgeois and definitely has some magic in her. Do you have a local witch here?"

"A witch?" Gisbert was surprised, although he devoted only half of his attention to Kiyan, still looking longingly for Roma, who went to rinse the laundry into the river with an offended expression. "No witch, but we have a wise woman, Miss Sybilla. But she's not a redhead. And just now she is absent; she went to study in Ellander."

Kiyan was about to ask another question, but he heard the sound of quick footsteps in heavy boots. His whole body tensed because he knew the sound well, the characteristic rhythm. The witcher turned to see a group of four armed men coming from the village. They were certainly neither Adrien's nor the baron’s guards. Kiyan recognized one of them from a distance, not only by walking, but also by the blindfold on his left eye and the coiled whip in his hand. 

"Take the horses and go down the river," Kiyan ordered Gisbert without even looking at the boy. "Tell the women who do the laundry to get out of here."

Gisbert looked shocked at the command, but when his gaze fell on the incoming group, he seemed to understand what was going on. Well, he certainly didn't understand the whole situation, but the guard could recognize an ambush when he saw one. "Are you sure Master? I could-- "

"Get the horses and get the fuck out of here," Kiyan growled at him. "It's none of your business. Don't get involved." The witcher cast Axii on the horses so that they would obediently and efficiently go with the guard and rushed forward to meet the headhunters, leaving Gisbert behind. The boy obediently gathered the horses together and started walking down the river towards the ford.

"Well, well!" The man in the blindfold shouted, as if greeting an old friend. The hunters and Kiyan met at the point where the villagers' laundry was hung on strings to dry among the sparse trees. "The witcher Kiyan himself. I thought I would have to look for you all over the Grassy Knoll, while you, as if nothing happened, show up in the village where we camp. This is very kind of you."

"Pavor Seneca." The witcher looked at the man without an eye with a contemptuous look. "Do you know that this is our third date and at this point in our relationship, I will have to kill you? I just wonder how you knew where to find me again."

"Oh Kiyan, kind of cunning and yet unable to connect the most obvious dots. I found you exactly the same way as last time. We have a mutual friend."

Kiyan considered only for a moment. Both now and last year, he had come across Seneca right after talking to the same person.

"Yosek," the witcher guessed, angry with himself for not having realized it earlier. He had sensed no falsehood or lie about the fence, but Yosek seemed very skilled at deceiving his clients.

"The fences are a gold mine," the hunter explained helpfully, and his men slowly began to spread apart. "Each criminal sooner or later goes to one. And after we met recently, I promised Yosek a lot of money if he sells you again."

"I have a disturbing feeling that you are really into me. I'm pretty sure there are other fugitives in the area much easier to catch."

"You owe me an eye, you scumbag," Seneca hissed, completely abandoning the tone of friendly conversation.

"You owe me the lives of two brothers." Kiyan snapped back immediately, also furious. "So don't even try to compare it, an eye is a small price for two lives."

"You mean their dog lives worth exactly what I was paid for their rotting heads?" The hunter spat, and Kiyan felt a sudden impulse of frenzy.

Kiyan’s hand moved to his steel sword. He bared the blade with a hiss and was about to jump to the attack, but suddenly a force bound his limbs. Kiyan couldn’t move, and his medallion trembled.

“What the-- ” The witcher clearly felt the influence of magic on him, and although he struggled with all his might, his hand didn’t move even an inch.

"You see Kiyan, the first time we met, I underestimated you," Seneca said in an evil voice, slowly approaching the immobilized witcher; "and the second time I hurried a little, but as they say: third time's a charm. This time I’m prepared."

Kiyan heard a movement behind him. When he looked back, a red-haired woman emerged from behind one of the sheets hung between the trees. It was the same woman he had asked Gisbert about earlier, and Kiyan could have sworn she hadn’t been there a few seconds before, otherwise he would have sensed her. She was holding her hand in a clenched fist, as if she were clutching an invisible rope that constrained Kiyan's movements.

"A witch? Seriously, Seneca?" Kiyan said in disappointment and frowned as he looked back at the hunter. "Is it even profitable for you? You have to pay Yosek and the witch, you will have to share the reward with your hansa. I'm pretty sure the bounty on my head isn't that high."

"You. Owe. Me. An eye," repeated Seneca emphatically. "And you will pay for it. Yosek and the witch are an investment. Before I cut your head off and take the money for it, I'll make you tell me everything. You will tell me about all your hideouts, safe houses, everyone who helps you. You will give me the bearings of your dear brothers, and I will slaughter them one by one and take up the coins."

Kiyan laughed. His body may have been immobilized, but his senses were still superhumanly sharp. The witcher heard the sound of careful steps between the bushes on the side of the main road. Seneca and his men were being slowly and methodically surrounded. All Kiyan had to do now was stall and keep the hunters' attention on himself.

"You know, I've seen possums more intimidating than you," said the witcher, determined to provoke the hunter. "Good luck with that; you're not the first who tried to force me to talk."

"Oh, but I'll be the last." Seneca nodded to the witch, the woman spoke a spell, and a flash of pain went down the witcher's spine. Kiyan gritted his teeth to stifle a groan of suffering, his knees buckled under him and they hit the ground hard. The witcher was kneeling at the feet of his tormentor now, gasping for breath as the witch stopped the torture at Seneca's sign.

"And how did you like it?" The hunter asked, leaning over Kiyan. "I don't know about you, but it seemed quite intimidating to me. Madame Lacerta can torture you like this for hours. I won't even have to get my hands dirty with you."

"Madame?" Kiyan asked politely, trying to shake off the echo of the spell's pain. "Is that a witch or a whore from your brothel who you've taught a few tricks, Seneca?"

Kiyan took a sharp breath as the witch treated him with another bolt of pain, this time on her own initiative.

"Pissing off Madame is a bad idea. I would advise you to be respectful of her," said Seneca as Kiyan tried to gather his thoughts after the attack. 

"Ok, daddy, this shit is too kinky for me, what’s my safe word?" Kiyan tried to keep his composure, but the task was getting difficult. The spell must have damaged his nerve endings a bit: Kiyan felt his skin burning, and he wasn't sure about his connection to his own limbs. He hoped it was just a shock and that his mutant body would be able to recover quickly. 

"You better think about your _last_ words," hunter was clearly not amused by Kiyan's sense of humor. "You're completely at our mercy, so you'd better start--"

Seneca didn't finish, for he was interrupted by a sudden hiss of steel, and then Kiyan felt the witch's magical pressure give way from his body. The witcher looked back clumsily. Despite being freed from the spell, he still had problems with moving. Kiyan saw Adrien, bloody saber in hand, standing over the decapitated body of Madame Lacerta. Gisbert appeared beside the prince, emerging from the white sheet now spattered with blood. Behind the hunters, Titus appeared from behind a tree, followed by Olaf from the bushes, and two more guards whom Kiyan had seen as he passed the watchtower by the ford.

Seneca and his men were now surrounded. Kiyan let out a sigh of unexpected relief. He wasn’t used to having someone intercede for him. Frankly, he was shocked that Gisbert had gone to the trouble of getting help for him. Even more shocking was the fact that Adrien had actually abandoned negotiations important to his interests in order to come to his aid.

"I’m sorry, I stepped on your line," the prince spoke mockingly, staring at Seneca with a murderous gaze. "But before you finish, pick up your shit." Adrien unceremoniously kicked the witch's head at the hunter's feet. 

Seneca looked at the head, then at the prince, not hiding his fury.

"Who the fuck are you?" he growled.

"You stand on my land, you camp in my village, you threaten one of my men, and you dare to ask who I am?" Adrien appeared genuinely outraged by the hunter's ignorance. "That's three times mine, and I really don’t like to share." The prince looked coldly at his guards and ordered briefly and dispassionately: "Kill them."

Adrien's guards, as ordered, rushed to the hunters, and Seneca unfurled his whip. Kiyan mobilized his sore body at the sight of it and leapt forward to stop both Adrien and Gisbert from attacking the one-eyed hunter. The witcher managed to cast Quen at himself and the other two at the last moment. Seneca's whip flared with red light, and its lash against the witcher's shield roared like thunder. Kiyan felt the whip's power vibrate in his bones, and his medallion trembled uncontrollably.

"What the hell was that?!" asked the prince, now closely following the hunter's dangerous weapon with his eyes. Gisbert was right next to him, fully ready to shield him with his body if necessary. 

"It's black magic. The whip is enchanted," Kiyan explained, taking off the shield and checking how firmly his grip on the sword was, he still couldn't quite feel his limbs. "It recharges every two minutes. Don’t let it hit you when it is fully charged. It kills instantly."

"Oh, fun," the prince laughed, but his black eyes were focused on his opponent. Adrien leapt forward, charging Seneca. Gisbert immediately followed in his footsteps.

Kiyan followed the impetuous duo, cursing under his breath as his leg cramped. The whip was supposed to remain inactive for a while, but that didn't make the hunter any less dangerous. Seneca made a wide swing, the inactive whip racing straight at Gisbert, but Adrien pushed the boy out of the way and took the blow on his left shoulder. The weapon lashed at him painfully, tearing the fabric of his clothes, but the prince ignored the pain and gripped the whip firmly, wrapping it around his shoulder. Seneca pulled with all his might, trying to snatch the weapon from Adrien's hand, but Kiyan knew it was a difficult task; the prince's arms were extremely strong. Adrien looked as if he knew what he was doing, and he clearly had a well practiced technique for dealing with a whip. Kiyan, however, was aware that it was a matter of seconds until the whip would begin to glow again. The prince dug his heels into the ground, tightened his grip on the whip, and looked meaningfully at the witcher. 

_Cut_ , Adrien's mouth moved soundlessly, and Kiyan reached for the silver sword on his back, stabbing the steel one in his hand into the ground. When the witcher's steel sword had faced the enchanted whip last year, he couldn’t cut it. But that was his old sword. Now Kiyan had a weapon that had supposedly defeated a demon, and it was time to find out how much truth was in the legend.

Without hesitating, the witcher swung the Moonblade at the taut whip. The sword slipped through the hunter's weapon like butter, hissing and smoking upon its red glow. Moments later, both parts of the severed whip crumbled to dust. Seneca stared at his dusty, empty hand, devastated, then looked back at his men to see Titus effortlessly murdering one of them and the other two being chased by the other guards as they decided to abandon their leader and escape. At the edge of the road, the villagers gathered to watch the fight with fascinated horror.

Kiyan took a deep breath and caught the scent of the hunter's fear clearly. The witcher closed his eyes for a moment and let the wall in his mind fall away. Today he could afford it. He had the advantage and support, and the emotions he had suppressed for a long time finally went unleashed. When he opened his eyes, all his control and all his composure and sense were forgotten. Only the wild desire for revenge and the killer instinct remained.

The adrenaline circulating in Kiyan's system pushed him to action. Seneca looked as if he wanted to say something, but the witcher wasn’t going to listen to him. His body finally regained its strength and balance and Kiyan barely registered moving before he was next to the hunter. Seneca managed to reach for the sword at his belt, but the witcher cut off his hand with a single fluid stroke of his blade. The hunter didn't have time to scream as Kiyan reversed the stroke and plunged the Moonblade up to the hilt in his belly, piercing him through. Seneca howled in pain when the witcher slowly twisted the sword in his gut and fell to his knees, looking at Kiyan with his tearful eye imploringly.

"Please," he whispered weakly, and then coughed up blood.

Kiyan, however, had no plans to give him an easy death.

"You're looking at it the wrong way, Seneca," Kiyan murmured into the hunter’s ear. "When I'm done with you, hell will seem like a relief. You thought you could kill my brothers with impunity, but you kicked over a rock and found a scorpion."

Kiyan pushed Seneca off his sword with his foot. The hunter fell to the ground, gasping for shallow breaths and trembling. Kiyan took a vial of white gull from a small purse at his waist and poured the mixture over Seneca, then cast Igni. Seneca's alcohol-soaked clothes immediately caught fire, and the hunter began to howl like an animal. Kiyan relished every second of his suffering.

"Stop it, it's inhuman!" one of the villagers shouted, and a young, fair-haired woman stepped out of the crowd.

 _Roma, the ealdorman's daughter_ , remembered the witcher as he gave her a murderous look. The girl, undaunted, walked towards Kiyan, despite her father's urges to return immediately. Roma looked at Seneca writhing in agony, then at the head of a witch lying nearby, and finally raised her tearful gaze to the witcher.

"It's inhuman," repeated the girl with determination, although she was trembling with terror. "It is true that you are monsters! These people came here to catch criminals like you, they didn’t deserve to be killed. Who do you think you are?"

"He didn't deserve it?" Kiyan growled in a low voice, focusing his wild gaze on the girl. "It's inhuman? Who do I think _I_ am? And you, who do you think _you_ are, stupid wench? Whether you have a reason or not, you mess with us and then you are surprised when we don’t take any of your shit. That's how it was in Iello, that's how it was in Blaviken, and that's how it will be here if you don't get out of my way right fucking now!"

"Your words only proves that you witchers are dangerous and the hunters were right in attacking you!" She shouted in his face.

His hand twitched to slaughter her, but unexpectedly, Gisbert came between them, completely shielding the girl with his body. Kiyan held back.

"Master, please," the boy spoke softly and gently, his bare hands in front of him in a conciliatory gesture. "Don't hurt her, please."

Honestly, Kiyan wanted to behead the boy with Roma, but his common sense finally appeared and reminded the witcher that if it weren't for Gisbert, he wouldn't have received any help just now. He owed the boy something. As soon as he came to this conclusion, he felt a firm hand on his back and looked over his shoulder. Adrien stared straight at him, but Kiyan saw neither fear, nor anger, nor pity in the prince's eyes. He saw understanding, and it allowed him to find himself in his own mind again and to look at the situation consciously.

"I see it is personal," the prince said calmly, his hand still on Kiyan's back like an anchor holding him in place. "And for me, you can do whatever you want with this hunter. But let's stop here, at least for now. You don't have to be what they expect you to be."

Kiyan took a deep breath and dropped his sword straight onto the neck of whimpering Seneca. The separated cervical vertebrae crunched, and the hunter fell silent. The witcher hoped his brothers would forgive him for keeping it so short.

"Get her out of here," the prince ordered Gisbert, and the boy obediently took Roma's arm and pulled her away from the scene.

Suddenly, the prince's guards, who had run after the fleeing hunters, pushed through the crowded villagers. 

"We killed one, and the other hunter escaped," Olaf reported. "They had a camp right on the edge of the village, so one of them managed to reach a horse. We found this."

The guard handed Adrien some papers, and the prince studied the notes for a moment. Kiyan spotted his own wanted poster among the pages, as well as several others with his brothers from cat school. But something else caught Adrien's attention. The prince selected one of the sheets and looked up at the crowd from the village.

"You absolutely want to piss me off today, Dieter?" Adrien asked, not hiding his irritation as he waved the sheet at the baron of Crow's Perch, who was standing among the crowd. "You let these scums on my land. It's a safe conduct with your seal. That's why my guards let them through the ford."

Kiyan also looked at the baron, whose face was completely blank. The only crossing of the Pontar between Temerian Velen and Redanian Grassy Knoll was the Hindhold, a knightly stronghold. The knights of Matenko definitely wouldn’t let headhunters across the border any more than they would let a witcher. The Hindhold was the connecting point of a large trade route, and the knights guarded it better than their sister's virtues. Kiyan had long learned how to get to Readnia by the sea via Novigrad. The hunters may have attempted to cross the border through Oxenfurt, but that was also risky; the security on the Western Gate was tight, and Seneca and his gang didn’t have a good reputation. Rumors about their appearance in the area would also spread quickly then. This unofficial ford was the perfect passage for them, and it was up to two people whether they could pass through it: Adrien and Baron Dieter. They must have done the baron a favor for this safe conduct, but thanks to it, they had slipped into Redania unnoticed. 

"I don't remember giving them permission. Maybe they stole it from some merchant," the baron replied indifferently, and sounded quite plausible were it not for the fact that Kiyan could sense it wasn't true.

"He is lying," said the witcher, quietly enough that only Adrien, standing next to him, could hear it. The prince looked at Kiyan thoughtfully, then looked again at the baron.

"How many more goons have you handed these safe conducts?" Adrien asked coldly, not taking his evil glare from the baron.

"Don't be a hypocrite, Adrien," the baron rolled his eyes. "You hire a witcher-assassin and you have a grudge against a few headhunters?"

"Enough of this farce, our negotiations end here," Adrien growled, and angrily crumpled both the disputed safe conduct and the rest of the wanted posters in his hand. "No one else on your safes will be passed through the ford, and your seal loses all right on my land. Send your goods to Novigrad via the Hindhold."

"You can't be serious," the baron said indignantly. "I can't count how many times you passed some scum on your safe conduct through my land, and I have never once said a word! Do you really want to have a conflict with me because of witcher?"

"I've killed for less, Dieter. And you let people into my land who don’t respect my authority. You don't respect it yourself, so I'm just done with pretending that I still have some patience for you. Get the fuck out of my land, or I'm gonna rip off your head and shit down your neck."

As if to confirm these words, all of the prince's guards looked at the baron and his men, and their gaze revealed that they would only need one crooked glance of the baron, a single gesture of insult to their prince, and they would use force without hesitation. This was what surprised Kiyan the most - Adrien wasn’t liked by his subjects, but he had the absolute loyalty and devotion of his guards. These soldiers may not have been very competent, but they were undoubtedly ready to kill and die for Adrien. Now Kiyan stood on one side with them, as if accidentally dragged into their circle, but immediately accepted and recognized as part of their team. They came to his aid as one of their own.

"You'll regret this," the baron growled, but he nodded to his soldiers, and the whole group turned to their horses, preparing to leave Ursten.

"What a mess," Titus said, standing at his prince's right hand. "He'll cause problems."

"His little malice doesn’t bother me, and he will not dare to do anything more, because he is just a coward." Adrien shrugged his shoulders. "He thinks I'm my father, but I'll teach him reason. One asshole off my head, now get me the ealdorman here."

There was strength and confidence in Adrien's voice, and Kiyan could clearly see that he was enjoying bossing around others. The guards pulled the village leader from the crowd and threw him at the feet of their prince. The man was absolutely terrified, and his daughter struggled in Gisbert's embrace and shouted. Gisbert tried to stop her and explain that it would be better for everyone to keep quiet, but Roma didn’t seem inclined to listen.

"You are in great trouble, Havel," said the prince, looking down at the humbly kneeling ealdorman. "Why did you let these scum camp in Ursten?"

"My Lord, forgive me, I didn't know," the man sobbed. "They had the baron's safe-conduct and said they were chasing a criminal. They showed up the day before yesterday, in the evening, and paid for food and accommodation. The witch helped Jasna's sick child. They behave decently."

"Decently?" The prince growled. "They attacked one of my men and showed me gross disrespect. Is that how you define decency, Havel? It is very disturbing. What kind of an example is that for the rest of the villagers?" 

"Forgive me, my Lord, I was wrong!" The ealdorman was trembling and crying.

Adrien rolled his eyes and looked out into the frightened villagers. They were afraid of course, but they were also curious about what would happen next. The prince spotted one of the faces and called the peasant to him. A tall, sturdy man in the prime of life stepped out of the villagers and humbly bowed to Adrien. 

"My congratulations, Igor, you have just become the new ealdorman of Ursten," Adrien spoke to the man as if he had just offered him some trinket and not power over the whole village. "Your first task will be to arrange for Havel and his family to get out of my land immediately. The next will be to send a messenger to all villages with the information that both the arrest warrants for any witchers and the safe-conducts of baron Dieter are invalid in Grassy Knoll. Every bounty hunter in the area, and anyone with the Baron’s of Velen’s safes, is to be reported to my guard. You don't host them, you don't feed them, you don't talk to them, you don't help them in any way. Anyone who does otherwise will be hung with them. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, my lord," Igor bowed and then whistled several men to him. Adrien delegated Gisbert to oversee the removal of Havel and his daughter. The boy was clearly not pleased with this turn of events, but he didn’t express it in any way, obediently following orders.

"Track down the escaped hunter," Adrien ordered his guards as the new village leader ordered the villagers to return to their activities. The prince, in turn, pointed to the bodies of the killed hunters. "The fugitive and those here are to hang off the main road as a warning to other bounty hunters. They aren’t welcome here. You are to kill each one of them who dares to set foot in Grassy Knoll. Captain, please send more guards to guard the ford. Only our regulars have access, but they will need to be politely told that the rates have just gone up because of Baron Dieter."

The prince's guards dispersed to their assigned tasks, and Kiyan and Adrien were left alone among the blood-spattered laundry.

"Are you okay?" Adrien asked, looking at the witcher with concern.

"Don't get me wrong, prince," Kiyan replied, turning back to the steel sword still in the ground, where the witcher had stabbed it. "I really appreciate what you have done for me here, but I don't want you to get involved in this. My bad blood with headhunters is my business."

"And it looks very bothersome to me," Adrien remarked. "I can solve your problem; I have the power to keep you from being bothered again."

"And here, you are wrong." Kiyan looked at him seriously. "You can give me immunity on your land, but it's only a small point on a map full of threats. It won't change anything, and I don't see why you should worry about it. I'm not one of yours."

"As long as you work for me, yes, you are," said the prince firmly.

"This is your secret?" Kiyan asked, a bit irritated by Adrien's stubbornness. He wasn't really looking for friends. He was always on his own, and relying on someone else only made him nervous. "This is how you gain the loyalty of your guards? Do you get them out of trouble, give them shelter, and then prey on their gratitude? Is that why they are so willing to risk their lives for you?"

"It's not gratitude that keeps them close to me," Adrien laughed, but a hint of sadness appeared in his eyes. "I just pay them well and understand where they come from. They are outcasts, former criminals, prisoners, pariahs. They have nowhere to go. If something happened to me, no one in their right mind would give them a decent job."

"Well, that makes sense," Kiyan remarked bitterly. "You aren’t preying on their gratitude, but on their desperation. So take note that I’m not desperate."

Adrien frowned thoughtfully, then sighed heavily.

"They do it for money. I pay them fairly," he said, as if slightly irritated. "And you, witcher, please note that this wasn’t an attempt on your pride. I intervened because I know what it's like to be judged according to assumptions, stereotypes, and intolerance. I helped you because I wanted to and I had the ability, not to oblige you to be grateful. A simple thank you would be enough." 

"Thank you," Kiyan said softly after a tense silence, then headed toward the river to wash away the blood and unwanted emotions. He was really upset, and that didn't happen often. 

He could feel Adrien's eyes on him, but the prince didn’t follow him. Good. Kiyan wanted to be alone now. As it had always been. Everything had turned out ugly, as always. Not with Seneca, because Kiyan only wished he had tortured the hunter longer. But with Adrien, who had helped him by risking his business with the baron; with the villagers, who once again saw only the evil face of the witchers; with Gisbert, who brought help for him only for his good deed to hurt the girl he liked. Kiyan couldn't remember the last time he had felt remorse, and he really hated being the center of attention. It always meant facing consequences. And all he had been taught during his witcher training was how to avoid consequences.

But something good also came out of this whole incident. Now Grassy Knoll was one of the safest places in the whole North for Kiyan; he had the prince's protection. And no matter how bad he felt about it, it gave him many possibilities in these lands. Maybe he could finally make some money without having to constantly watch his back. Kiyan could feel safe here. It was strange and new, but not unpleasant.

[ *Twenty One Pilots - Heathens ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UprcpdwuwCg&list=PLWOmE605aDPd1XXGeyjpiRZ7XR2otz6Cg&index=53)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have Chapter 4 for you here, and we hope you enjoyed your holidays in a pleasant atmosphere :) On this occasion, we also wish you a happy new year, so that the coming year will be better than this one (although this shouldn't be difficult). 
> 
> From the very beginning, we tried not to specify when the action was taking place, as there are no clear or unequivocal clues in TW3 when exactly Kiyan and Adrien met. All we knew was that it was long enough before the TW3 events that Drahim Castle fell into complete disrepair. However, we have mentioned here from two incidents involving witchers - Blaviken and Iello. Both incidents can be timeline identified using book data. According to my lame calculations, the incident in Blaviken happened some 44 years before the TW3 events. The Polish wiki says it was the year 1231. The Iello incident was 9 years later, in 1240. If we assume that Blaviken was, for example, 14 years before what we have in Chapter 4, we have 30 years left for the Drahim Castle to be completely destroyed. Although in fact it would only take a few years for the castle to disappear, if we take into account the fact that no one later guarded it, it was completely abandoned and most likely the local population was stealing stones from the building. Anyway, my point is that without even specifying the year of action, we can assume that both Balviken and Iello were before the events we write. 
> 
> Also, irrelevant fun fact: Baron Dieter could either be Vserad's grandfather or father.
> 
> As for Hindhold, there is more information about this place in the Polish version of the game. Once, the stronghold was the seat of the noble Matenko family. Knights of this lineage protected the transport carried between Oxenfurt and Novigrad. It's not known why the fort fell into disrepair, especially since it had such an important bridge connecting such large trade routes. Probably one of the wars ended the existence of the Matenko family and no one later settled the Hindhold. By the way, this is a terrible waste, both Hindhold and Drahim Castle are lost because none of the royal officials found a new use for these places and allowed it to be destroyed.
> 
> A.


	5. Whatcha gonna do about me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally Kiyan wouldn’t start a conversation - he didn’t feel the need to make friends here - but Gisbert intrigued him. The guard probably didn’t realize it, but the witcher saw clearly that he was favored by the prince. Kiyan had to admit that he was curious about what they had in common, other than their apparent Ofieri heritage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, now whatcha gonna do about me?  
> I never was a fan of your ways, but  
> I'm still here playing your games  
> So tag me in *

As they left Ursten, Titus offered to continue as planned to Est Tayiar Kiyan felt a bit silly refusing after having been so insistent on going, but he was still full of frustrated rage and knew it would be unwise to do anything before he had a chance to meditate and fully shake off his bloodlust. He still felt the need to kill something, and didn't want to risk it being the first person who ended up in his way. He was agitated enough that someone needed only to look at him askance, call him a freak, as charming peasants were wont to do, and blood would spill.

Titus and Kiyan left early the next morning, stopping at the guard post along the road to the elven ruins for Titus to pass on Adrien’s new orders. When they arrived at Est Tayiar, Titus left Kiyan at the ruins and continued along the road to talk to the guards at the next tower.

An initial inspection of the ruins revealed no signs of hauntings, but there was no doubt a lot of magic because his medallion was trembling continuously. He also found faint traces of the encampment, but no sign of people or their remains. Kiyan meditated for a few hours by a small fire, but nothing unusual happened. The place was powerful, but it was clean of wraiths and other monsters. It bothered him a bit. First, because Est Tayiar was the perfect place to become a monster habitat, and second, he remembered that Yosek had spoken of many daredevils who had gone to the ruins but hadn’t returned. So what had happened to them if monsters hadn’t eaten them? Unless it had been another lie that the witcher hadn’t sensed. Kiyan also made a mental note to pay Yosek a visit and talk to him about his connection to Seneca. 

But work first, then pleasure. Since the ruins were peaceful and the road seemed secure, Kiyan set out back to the castle on the same route that he had taken with Titus. In the slowly falling darkness, the witcher listened to the sounds from the roadside groves and only once was alerted by the howling of wolves. Normally he would have ignored them, but he couldn't risk the predators attacking the convoy while he was traveling with the expedition. Wolves didn't usually attack humans unprovoked, but he didn’t know how sensitive the princely horses were to predators, and Kiyan preferred to be safe than sorry. He slipped silently into the bushes and killed them all. According to his estimates, this entire route, with equipment carts, would take a full day, but Kiyan felt that they shouldn’t set up camp in the ruins at night. Therefore, he also chose a safe place halfway to Est Tayiar where the expedition would spend the night before continuing to Est Tayiar in daylight.

All Kiyan had left was to check an alternative route just in case, but there was no point in doing it at night, especially since he still didn't know the area very well. Also, he hated working in the dark. He would scout the alternate route the next day. He returned to the castle well after sunset. When he went out into the courtyard after taking Hilargi back to the stables, he saw a small group of guards gathered by the fire. The men were drinking and laughing loudly, as Olaf told the rest of the gathered men a highly colorful version of what had happened in Ursten. Kiyan turned away from the boisterous group and saw Gisbert sitting on a bench nearby, watching the laughing men morosely.

Kiyan slung his saddlebags over his shoulder, sighed, and directed his steps toward the boy.

"I haven't had a chance to thank you for going to get me help in Ustern," he said, standing over him. "And I didn't apologize for my behavior back then. I can only ask you to take into account that everyone has their limits and mine were exceeded that day."

Gisbert looked up at Kiyan, then shrugged. "The Master was alone, and there were four of them. I figured it was the right thing to do. And Master, you don't have to explain yourself. I — I kind of understand."

"You're a good kid, Gisbert," the witcher smiled slightly. 

"I'm not a kid," the boy frowned in indignation.

"How old are you?" Kiyan sat down next to him, threw his saddlebags to the ground, and pulled out his last bottle of white gull. He would have to restock, but for now, he needed a drink.

Normally Kiyan wouldn’t start a conversation -- he didn’t feel the need to make friends here -- but Gisbert intrigued him. The guard probably didn’t realize it, but the witcher saw clearly that he was favored by the prince. Kiyan had to admit that he was curious about what they had in common, other than their apparent Ofieri heritage.

"Twenty," the boy replied, and the witcher smiled.

"That's a lie," he pointed out calmly and took a sip of a white gull.

"Eighteen?" Gisbert tried again, but Kiyan just shook his head. Finally the boy gave up: "Sixteen. But I’m very brave, strong, and loyal. I have worked hard to be a guard."

"I don’t deny it," Kiyan assured him, sensing the boy's nervousness. Apparently his young age was the reason people didn't take him seriously as a guard. Well, that and his genuine naivete and carelessness. He lacked experience not only as a soldier but also with life in general.

Titus came from the side of the barracks accompanied by a pack of hunting dogs, Kiyan counted five animals. Two greyhounds, two bloodhounds and one typical, small Redanian hunting dog. Apparently, this was the time the dogs were released for the night. The animals ran to the fire to say hello to the guards, and Titus turned a stern glance at Gisbert.

"Since you're sitting here, I understand you've cleaned the stables already?" The captain asked sharply, and Gisbert looked away.

"Actually, I -- "

"Actually, you can still get a few lashes if you don't get down to work," the captain finished for him, and the boy jumped up and headed towards the stables. Titus squinted at Kiyan, then ordered the guards not to stay up late and walked toward the bathhouse. It seems those guards were supposed to be the morning shift, and Kiyan really couldn't understand what the hell kind of discipline was going on in this place.

One of the hunting dogs detached from the pack by the fire and suddenly became interested in Kiyan. The massive black bloodhound stopped a short distance from the witcher, looked him straight in the eyes with its head low, and growled. Kiyan maintained eye contact with the animal, calmly waiting for its next move. He could use Axii if necessary, but he believed he could win this little duel for dominance. Usually, dogs would recognize his advantage even though they clearly didn't like his scent. Apparently they recognized him as a stronger predator.

Kiyan heard footsteps behind him, but he was focused on the dog and didn't look up. He recognized the person’s stride and knew who was approaching from the direction of the bathhouse; he didn’t register this person as a threat. He quickly changed his mind when a decorative cloak fell on his shoulders.

"Now you smell like me," said Adrien softly just above the witcher's ear, his hands clenched on the witcher's shoulders and Kiyan froze, now wrapped in the prince's cloak.

The witcher turned his head very slowly and glowered at the hand on his shoulder. 

_Okay, what the fuck?_

Adrien must have felt Kiyan tense up because he took his hands off him and straddled the bench beside him. He was holding a bottle of alcohol in his hand, and he had that ridiculously beautiful smile on his face. The dog that had been testing Kiyan turned its attention completely to Adrien, walking up to him and wagging its tail happily. The prince scratched the animal behind the ear with a surprisingly soft look on his face.

"You're new here, and my dogs are very territorial. Licorice must have disliked your scent," Adrien explained, and it seemed to justify his cloak on the witcher's shoulders.

Kiyan understood that Adrien had done the same thing he had done with his kerchief and Hilargi, but he couldn't help but feel that he was marked as a prince’s property. It also reminded him that Adrien hadn’t returned his kerchief to him.

"I can deal with dogs. Your assistance is unnecessary," said the witcher in a cold voice, and in one determined and irritated movement, he took off the cloak and handed it to the prince, holding it in two fingers as if it were something disgusting. That wasn’t true; the black coat with gold embroidery was pleasant to the touch, made of high-quality, thick material and smelling of a rich perfume, a mixture of sage, cinnamon, sandalwood, and lavender. Same as Adrien. "But that reminds me, you didn't give me my kerchief back, prince. I would be grateful if you did it now."

"Oh, crap!" Adrien theatrically feigned surprise, but made no move to take the cloak from him. "My apologies Master, but unfortunately, I lost your kerchief."

A warning bell rang in Kiyan's head. The witcher tilted his head, looking at the prince in disbelief. Firstly, Adrien had just brazenly lied, and secondly, what the hell was that supposed to mean? What kind of idiotic game was he playing?

"You can keep my cloak as a compensation for the kerchief," continued the prince, undeterred by the witcher's skeptical face. "Unless you prefer me to buy you a new one?"

The bell in Kiyan's head rang even louder.

The witcher didn’t answer and slowly put the prince's cloak on the bench between them, letting him know that he wasn’t interested in this gift. He began to wonder seriously whether he was just seeing things or whether the prince was actually getting pushy. The bottle in Adrien’s hand and the scent of booze on his breath explained part of it, but the prince was his employer, and the way he kept shortening the distance between them made Kiyan feel uneasy and hemmed in.

Meanwhile, the cook's son, a boy about ten years old, appeared by the fire with meat, bread, and cheese for the guards. Adrien saw it, picked up a small pebble from the ground and threw it at the boy's back. The pebble bounced harmlessly off the boy and drew his attention to the prince, so the boy approached him, offering refreshments.

"What the hell was that, couldn't you call him over like a civilized man?" Kiyan asked indignantly, watching as Adrien took the boy's food.

For now, he decided not to press the kerchief issue, but he would have to think about it later. If the situation was as he thought, he would have to put more emphasis on assertiveness and distance from the damn prince, and today he was just too tired for that shit.

"Calling him will do nothing, he is Deaf," explained Adrien and gestured to the boy to treat the witcher as well.

The kid was clearly afraid of Kiyan, but he didn't dare refuse the prince's command. He had probably already been informed how much he must be careful with the witcher, because individuals like him were only waiting for opportunities to kidnap a child. Kiyan looked at him sympathetically, took a piece of bread and cheese, then made a few gestures in the local sign language.

_“Thank you. Don't be afraid, my name is Kiyan, I'm a witcher. What's your name?”_

The boy's eyes widened in surprise, and Adrien's jaw dropped. The kid put the tray of food on the bench and signed to Kiyan. Fear gave way to curiosity.

_"My name is Albin. Do you need anything else? Should I get something to drink?"_

_"I'm good, thank you."_

Albin bowed politely, left them the tray of food, and headed back to the kitchen for more food for the guards.

"Okay, that was impressive," said Adrien, looking at the witcher with an intrigued expression. "So you know Ofieri and Redanian sign language. What other languages do you know?"

"I’m a nomad and have been traveling for many decades," Kiyan explained."I have had the time and opportunity to learn languages. I know the Elder Speech and most of the languages based on it: Nilfgaardian, Skellige jargon, Dryad dialect and Sea dialect. I also know some basics of the Zerrikanian dialect, but it's a difficult language and a very hostile country for witchers; I've only been there once."

"And where did you learn sign language? A rare skill, even for a nomad."

"This is what I learned as a child. In my group during the Witcher Trials there was a deaf boy from the North. My brother Joël had a stupid habit of bringing me things that require attention and care - broken weapons and stray or injured animals - and expecting me to fix them. Until finally he brought a disabled boy. Because he was Deaf, he didn't get along with the other kids in the group. There is a great irony in this, since the rest of the children who were to become witchers excluded him because he was _different_. Anyway, Joël decided to take care of him. The problem was, Joël couldn't even take care of himself, let alone someone else, so the responsibility was always ultimately on me anyway. Whether I wanted to or not, this boy spent a lot of time with us, and we had to learn to communicate with him. Then, Joël and I used sign language to communicate with each other when we didn't want anyone else to know what we were talking about."

"Do witchers often take deaf children for training?" Adrien was very surprised.

"They take anyone." Kiyan stared at the fire, where the guards took more food from Albin and poured alcohol into cups. "My school isn’t picky. It doesn't matter if it's a boy or girl, or where they come from or how old they are; irrelevant if they are disabled. Disabled children were treated as experiments to find out to what extent mutations could reverse their disability. During the Trials, we are given potions that drastically change our bodies, so there was a chance that the deaf boy would regain his hearing."

"And he regained it?" Adrien asked softly as Kiyan paused in his tale, thinking back to the day they woke up from the Trials of the Grasses.

”Our group was strong,” he said in a flat tone completely drained of emotion. ”More of us survived the initial process than the statistics had predicted, but that didn't mean everyone would get to the end. The next few days were crucial. It was…” Kiyan thought for a moment, searching for the right words. Even after all these years, remembering that day wasn't easy for him. ”...overwhelming. I have no words to fully describe how much. There was pain, but also something worse. I felt absolutely everything. I literally heard my hair growing on my head, every little murmur, my own heartbeat, and the quick pulses of the other kids as they regained consciousness and were just as terrified as I was. The smell of their fear, sweat, and vomit were so strong they made me sick, my head was buzzing with the constant noise. I couldn't open my eyes because I didn't know how to control my new pupils; the slightest ray of light felt like someone was stabbing daggers into my eyes.” 

Decades have passed, and Kiyan still considered it one of the worst experiences of his life.

"Now imagine that deaf boy who hadn't heard since birth." Kiyan finally looked at Adrien. "Who didn’t even understand the concept of sound, who all his life relied on sight and smell to perceive reality. My torment was nothing compared to his. Yes, he got his hearing back. And he went mad because of it. He killed himself two days after waking up from the Trials. He couldn't bear it."

"And I thought my childhood was fucked up," Adrien said finally, after a moment of awkward silence, and took a good sip from his bottle.

"If you feel like it was, it was," Kiyan replied, still impassively, trying to focus on something other than the unpleasant memories. He wasn't in the habit of talking about it, but again, with Adrien, some of his inhibitions just faded away. "It's not a competition."

"My father probably would have a different opinion," the prince smiled sadly. "When you belong to a noble family, everything is a competition. You have to keep proving that you are the best."

"Even if you were to be the best at being unhappy?" Kiyan asked and drank from his bottle as well. He thought of his witcher training. Most of his masters were glad if their proteges simply survived the Trials and their first independent years on the path, but there were a few who thought it was a competition, wanted to prove to other that their pupils were the best, and they put a lot of pressure on their kids, telling them that they were doing it for their good. Kiyan was lucky because Guxart was an extreme pragmatist. For him, a good student was a living student.

"My father would say that life isn’t about being happy." Adrien shrugged, now looking at his dog, who had put its muzzle on his thigh, looking for attention. The prince began to stroke its head slowly. "Just about being superior. About power. I had to be strong, no matter what the cost, because that was also a testament of my father and our ancestors strength."

Kiyan didn't know what to say to that. He had never had a father, and although his masters were father figures for him, he didn’t have blood ties to them, and what Adrien was talking about was strongly related to the stigma of being an heir. The nobles were crazy about it: their noble blood flowing in their descendants was an indicator of their status. For the noblemen, there was nothing more important than having a strong heir. It guaranteed the survival of the family and surname. It was their immortality.

This made the bell in the witcher's head ring again. The prince was in his prime, but he had neither wife nor child, and there was no indication that he intended to change that. A man brought up by a despotic father who emphasized the prestige of the family lived alone. Even if racism in the North made him an unattractive candidate as a husband, his fortune, title, and relationship to the royal family should suffice to completely remove that ‘taint.’ Those factors always changed the mind of the maidens, or rather their fathers, about the attractiveness of a potential spouse. It could hardly be a coincidence; the nobility didn’t leave the question of inheritance to coincidence. Or was Kiyan reading too much into it?

Kiyan’s gaze fell on the stables where Gisbert was just leaving. The boy seemed to have done his chores and was now called back to the fire by the rest of the guards, one of them offering the boy alcohol. 

A long, loud, and sharp sound snapped the witcher out of his thoughts and Kiyan looked at Adrien sitting next to him, who was just taking his fingers out of his mouth after using them to whistle. The prince glared at the scene by the fire, and all his guards turned their heads towards him at the high-pitched sound.

"How many times do I have to say the kid isn’t drinking?" Adrien growled at his guards, who looked at each other in fear. It seems they had forgotten that the prince was watching them all the time. One of them immediately took the bottle from Gisbert.

"But I--" Gisbert began trying to negotiate, but one authoritarian look from Adrien and the boy shut his mouth and walked away from the fire to the barracks, his head bowed.

It was interesting. And this wasn't the first time Adrien paid Gisbert more attention than a sixteen-year-old guardsman ought to merit.

"Who is the boy?" asked the witcher bluntly, curious about the result.

"Excuse me?" Adrien asked, sincerely surprised.

"Who is he to you?" Kiyan repeated calmly. "You favor and protect him. You said you would punish him, but in the end the boy didn't get lashes, you only said it then because the other guards were listening. You went under the whip instead of him while fighting Seneca. You took the risk of stopping me as I wondered if I should cut the boy's head off as he stepped between me and the girl. You spared the life of the ealdorman and his daughter because you knew that the boy would be upset if you ordered them to be killed. So I wonder who he is to you. Is he your bastard?"

Adrien stared at Kiyan for a few seconds, completely surprised, then burst out laughing. The dog took its muzzle from his thigh as the prince moved suddenly in a fit of merriment and trotted back to the fire, affronted.

"My father would be so delighted if I had a bastard," the prince finally choked out, trying to suppress a laugh, and Kiyan couldn't quite understand any of it anymore. Usually, noble families weren’t content with having bastards. "No, he's not my bastard, but I actually consider him a family in a way. Plus, I don't have many opportunities to be a role model, and this kid worships me like a god. So I try to keep him alive and in good health."

"So he’s your pet? Like one of your dogs, he’s here to be happy to see you and wag his tail whenever you look kindly upon him?"

"When you say it that way, it sounds wrong." Adrien didn’t seem affected by the witcher's bitter words.

"Because it is wrong," Kiyan growled. "He's young and naive and he believes in you. And you use it to feed your ego." 

Adrien just shrugged and took a good sip from his bottle. "I don't feel guilty. I'm not the worst thing that has happened to him."

Kiyan felt an impulse of anger and opened his mouth to debate Adrien but clamped it shut immediately. 

_Mind your own business_ , he admonished himself. _You won't change it anyway, don't waste your breath. Don't get involved. You were supposed to build distance, meanwhile you sit here and stick your nose in where it doesn't belong._

"I’m tired. I’m going to sleep," said the witcher, rising from his seat and reaching under the bench for his saddlebags. He was determined to distance himself from the topic. And from the prince. And to think that he thought it was Adrien becoming pushy while he himself was devoting far too much attention to the prince and his matters. "Tomorrow I will check an alternative route to the ruins, although I think we will take the one I checked today. It isn’t the shortest, but it is easy and safe."

The prince paused with his bottle halfway to his mouth and looked at Kiyan out of the corner of his eye, evidently trying to hide his momentary confusion. Kiyan frowned, wondering what he had said that made Adrien suddenly alert.

"All right, tomorrow is great," the prince agreed eagerly, and then added, "Need a guide? I will order Titus to come with you early in the morning."

What a wonderful change; suddenly Adrien had decided to cooperate. Yeah, that was bullshit. Kiyan didn't believe in wonderful changes. Something was wrong.

"No need, I can handle it myself," Kiyan replied, narrowing eyes for a moment as he stared at Adrien. His scent betrayed a slight nervousness, but nothing concrete that would tell the witcher what the prince had on his conscience.

They both hesitated as if they wanted to say something else, but eventually Kiyan turned on his heel and started toward the bathhouse. The prince's watchful gaze followed him all the way.

*

Titus ran into Kiyan outside the bathhouse. They nodded a polite good night to each other, and the captain turned his steps toward the fire, noticing Adrien in the distance, staring at the witcher's back. Judging by the prince's expression, he hadn’t done what he should have, and the captain let out a small, annoyed tsk as he stood over him, watching him pour another bottle of alcohol into himself.

"I'm gonna fuck him so hard," said Adrien, clearly well on his way to drunk.

"And I'm gonna tell you it's a bad idea," Titus replied, resigned, as he sat down next to his prince.

"And I'm gonna ignore you," Adrien smirked, and the captain shook his head.

"He's dangerous," the captain tried, although he knew it would be useless. When Adrien wanted something, there was no force in the world that would change his mind.

"Nah," Adrien waved a hand dismissively. "He’s cute."

 _Cute_. Titus had many terms for the witcher, but ‘cute’ was definitely not one of them.

"He doesn't seem interested in you either."

"He's just shy. It’ll take effort, but I will get what I want. I always get what I want."

This time, Titus wouldn't be so sure. Adrien might well have met his match for stubbornness in this one.

"Did you tell him the scholars are coming tomorrow?" The captain finally asked, because that was one of the things Adrien should have discussed with the witcher.

The prince winced. "It slipped my mind."

Titus sighed heavily. "He's gonna be pissed. And then he'll be a huge pain in the ass. For someone who wants to get in his pants, you piss him off far too often."

"What can I say, that's my charm." Adrien fluttered his eyelashes. "Besides, he likes it."

"No, you like it. And someday soon he finally won't take it anymore and he’ll decide to break your neck, and then I'll have to kill him. You probably didn't tell him what the point of this whole expedition was either, did you?"

"Somehow, it didn't come up." Another innocent look that wasn’t worth shit.

"Adrien, damn expedition starts the day after tomorrow. And you hired someone from the outside for the last moment. And you didn't tell him what the plan was. How did you think this was supposed to work?"

"I just don't know if I can trust him with it yet. I'm trying to figure him out all the time."

"All you're trying to figure out here is how to suck his dick, and time is running out."

"Don't be rude," the prince snapped. "It's a delicate matter. You hurt my feelings."

_I hurt your fucking what now?_

"Look, just dismiss him," the captain said. He didn’t trust this witcher. And he couldn't trust Adrien when Kiyan was around. The mere sight of this mutant was turning the prince’s brain into jelly. "I told you I'd take care of this. We don't need him. It will be safer this way."

Adrien waved a hand dismissively. "It's gonna be okay. Let me play it my way. I'll loop him in about our plan tomorrow. He looks conscientious and well-organized. If he agrees, I believe he will do it properly and leave no traces."

"What if he doesn't agree?"

"Trust me, I have the gift of persuasion."

"More like a gift for manipulation. I'm afraid it won't be that easy with him. He's not stupid. And he doesn't seem like someone to take your bullshit."

"But he has a selective morality, and the money argument appeals to him. Just believe me, I know what I'm doing."

"Hell no, I'll never believe you know what you're doing."

Adrien laughed and downed his bottle. He unceremoniously tossed it behind his back and started looking for another one. The captain decided for him that it was his last of the evening.

"Come on," he said firmly, taking the prince by the arm. "You’ve had enough for today. Tomorrow you must greet the eggheads from the Academy and explain to your witcher why you’re informing him of your plans at the last minute. So believe _me_ when _I_ say that you don't want to do this with a hangover."

"Bold of you to assume that I was going to be sober tomorrow," Adrien replied cheerfully, but obediently got up from the bench and let the captain escort him to his room.

  
  
  


* [ Barry Moore - Hey Now ](https://youtu.be/-MLEBo4XBTQ)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, there is chapter 5! This is the first chapter of our fic in 2021!
> 
> This sad story about a deaf boy on Witcher's Trials had been on my mind for some time. I always wondered if children with disabilities were admitted to the Trials, and how mutations would affect their bodies. Would children who couldn't walk regain use of their legs? Would those who were Deaf start to hear? If so, how would this affect them? This universe still has so many secrets, so many stories to tell, and so much untapped potential.
> 
> A.


	6. Headstrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien had never imagined that he would ever insist on Kiyan leaving his bedroom. For now, however, he needed a moment to collect his dignity, because the witcher had seriously abused it. If the prince hadn't had such a hangover, he would have been furious. Just because he liked him didn't mean he would let Kiyan walk all over him. The witcher forgot his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Circling your head contemplating everything you ever said  
> Now I see the truth I got a doubt  
> A different motive in your eyes and now I'm out  
> See you later  
> I see your fantasies  
> You wanna make it a reality baby paved in gold  
> See inside, inside of our heads yeah  
> Well now that's over
> 
> I see your motives inside  
> Decisions to hide
> 
> Back off I'll take you on  
> Headstrong to take on anyone  
> I know that you are wrong  
> Headstrong we're Headstrong  
> Back off I'll take you on  
> Headstrong to take on anyone  
> I know that you are wrong  
> This is not where you belong *

Adrien knew waking up with a hangover wasn't the most pleasant thing, but he had not anticipated that this morning would be one of the worst awakenings in his life. He heard Klemens yelling indignantly outside his door, but he decided to ignore it and pulled his pillow over his head to block out the unwanted noise. This was his first mistake.

Moments later, his pillow was brutally taken from him, and when he let out a sharp growl in protest, he was doused unexpectedly in cold water. This made him immediately sit up in bed and open his mouth to curse. Second mistake.

Kiyan splashed the rest of the water from the jug right into the prince's face and his open mouth just as he gasped, and Adrien choked.

"How dare you!" shouted a shocked Klemens behind the witcher's back, but Kiyan was unfazed about it, leveling a murderous gaze at the coughing prince.

"His Lordship is awake?" the witcher asked sharply. He held up the jug in his other hand. "If not, I can serve you your morning coffee as well."

"I'm awake," Adrien choked, and instinctively nodded his head to show that he was awake, though he still had trouble understanding this absurd reality. But he knew one thing - his breakfast coffee was hot, and he really didn't want any boiling liquid poured over his head.

"Great," Kiyan said dryly, setting both jugs aside. "So since I have your attention, you will kindly explain to me what the scholars from the Oxenfurt Academy are doing downstairs."

"My prince, please forgive me, I tried to stop him, but —" Klemens began to explain, but Adrien silenced him with a gesture.

"It's all right, Klemens, I understand," said the prince, pressing his hands against his eyes, trying to physically push the throbbing pain out of his head. "Please leave us alone."

The majordomo hesitated visibly before obeying. He set the prince's breakfast tray on the table and obediently left the room.

"You have some nerve, you know," Adrien said finally, irritated, when they were alone. "Do you realize I could have you hanged for this?"

"And do you realize how lucky you were that I didn't choose to pour hot coffee over your head?" the witcher replied immediately. "Why didn't you tell me the scholars were coming today?"

"Does it really matter why?" The prince snorted as he got up from bed and peeked out the window at the courtyard to see the guards helping the scholars with their luggage. "Besides, I don't have to tell you anything."

"I remind you that you are the one who hired me to protect this expedition. How am I supposed to work when I’m not getting basic information? How long will they stay here? When does this expedition even start?"

Adrien sighed heavily. He walked over to the chair, took a towel from it, and wiped his hair.

"Tomorrow," he replied, waiting for the witcher's next outburst.

"Tomorrow," Kiyan repeated, fury vibrating in his voice. "Dear prince, for four days I have been asking you for the date, and for four days you have been telling me that there is no hurry, and today I’m learning that the expedition started _tomorrow_?"

"Stop yelling," demanded the prince firmly, massaging his temples. Kiyan hadn’t raised his voice at all, but Adrien’s headache had reached that level when even the whisper sounded like a scream. "I just got the days wrong, it's no big deal."

"I haven't started yelling yet, but I'm seriously considering it if you keep lying to my face," Kiyan hissed.

The door swung open without a knock, and Titus appeared. Klemens must have alerted him about the scandalous behavior of the witcher because the first thing the captain did was look at Adrien, checking if the prince was still in one piece.

"Everything okay?" Titus asked, ignoring the witcher for the time being.

"I'm still alive, thank you," the prince smiled crookedly. "And the witcher was just leaving."

Adrien had never imagined that he would ever insist on Kiyan leaving his bedroom. For now, however, he needed a moment to collect his dignity, because the witcher had seriously abused it. If the prince hadn't had such a hangover, he would have been furious. Just because he liked him didn't mean he would let Kiyan walk all over him. The witcher forgot his place.

Kiyan looked as if he wanted to add something else, but Titus opened the door wide and gestured for the witcher to leave. Kiyan gave the prince one of his absolutely fierce glances that had no right being that attractive, then obediently headed for the door. Before he left, however, his eyes fell on the object lying on the dresser by the door.

"What do you know, my lost kerchief," he said, taking the fabric in his hand. "Lucky to be found."

Adrien winced. He’d known the excuse about the kerchief was flimsy, but he hadn’t expected it to fail quite so spectacularly.

"Is this the moment when I say: ‘I told you so’?" Titus asked as Kiyan left the room and headed down the hall toward the stairs. "I warned you yesterday this would happen."

"Maybe your rebuke would make some sense if I could still remember what you said to me yesterday." Adrien rubbed his face with his hands. He felt like shit, but Kiyan's rude wake up had undoubtedly shifted him to a higher level of functioning. Nothing wakes the mind like a rush of adrenaline in the morning.

"Get ready, the eggheads are waiting for you in the main chamber. Klemens is entertaining them for now, but it would be fitting to greet them," the captain advised, and the prince groaned in frustration.

"They can go to hell, for all I care," he muttered under his breath, but began to dress as instructed.

*

"This is the excavation supervisor, professor Sigismund Gloger," the prince made an informal presentation as all the newcomers gathered in the main chamber. "Professor, this is Master Kiyan, a witcher. He will take care of your safety during the expedition."

"With all due respect to the Master Witcher, did the prince hire only a single person as a bodyguard?" Professor Gloger ignored Kiyan completely and addressed his disappointed words to Adrien. "I was counting on your lending us some of your guards."

"Of course, my guards will escort you to Est Tayiar and help set up camp, but you must understand, professor, that I cannot leave my men there with you. This would significantly increase the cost of the trip."

 _It would also weaken the protection of your castle and extend the entire journey,_ witcher noted in his mind, but he kept it to himself. The prince was certainly aware of this, and the professor didn’t need to know.

After the confrontation in Adrien's bedroom, Kiyan was still angry, but figured he had only himself to blame. He had let the prince distract him for too long. He now had a firm resolve that he would not yield to him again. 

"Trust me, Master Kiyan is a professional with many talents." The witcher didn’t miss the suggestive tinge in Adrien's voice, as if he knew something more about Kiyan's many talents. "He is able to protect you from both bandits and monsters."

Both the witcher and the prince had put on their masks on this meeting: Kiyan wore the face of a cold professional, while Adrien played up his role as a friendly and carefree nobleman. The prince was wearing Ofieri finery, a long silk tunic over billowing pants. The rich fabrics highlighted his wealth, certainly, but also his warm brown skin and foreign heritage. Thinking about his own twin swords and prominently displayed medallion, Kiyan thought he understood the prince’s desire not to pretend to fit in. Behind his blank mask, Kiyan seethed. This inconvenient fellow feeling was getting in the way of his entirely justified fury with the man. 

Gloger didn’t seem convinced, but finally looked at the witcher. He even nodded appreciatively, and Kiyan made the same gesture.

"Master will allow me to introduce the other members of the expedition," said the professor, pointing to his three companions. "This is Professor Gottfried Oss, my longtime associate, expert on Elven culture. And these are my students, Michelle Sabina Ruxer and Marco Gedl."

 _Hello Marco_ , the witcher thought as he looked at the dark-haired boy, with big innocent blue eyes framed by long black eyelashes.

Kiyan had noticed him before, as soon as the scholars arrived at the Drahim castle, because it was really hard to miss him. The young man was beautiful and undoubtedly the youngest in Gloger's team. Kiyan estimated that the young man was not older than twenty-five. He timidly glanced at the witcher and was clearly embarrassed when he met his intensely yellow cat eyes, but Kiyan didn’t smell the scent of fear from him. The boy was intrigued and excited, even though he immediately looked down in a gesture of docility. _Curious and submissive_. Kiyan knew how to turn it to his own advantage. The witcher's frustration was now so high that the appearance of someone like Marco was a relief.

"You will spend tonight at the castle. A feast in nice company is planned for the evening," Adrien's voice broke the witcher out of his thoughts, and what he heard immediately irritated him again. "The best wine, beautiful women, and good music will give you some entertainment before the trip."

"Before the journey, everyone should be rested," said the witcher unexpectedly, which attracted the attention of all gathered, not only the beautiful Marco. "Drinking until the morning isn’t conducive to this."

The prince laughed and looked apologetically at Gloger.

"Like I said - professional," Adrien said cheerfully, but Kiyan caught the scent of his irritation as the prince addressed him directly: "Please don't worry, Master, you will leave only when everyone will be well rested."

Apparently, Kiyan had finally managed to push the prince’s buttons. The witcher couldn’t resist such an opportunity, especially after the bastard had been getting on his nerves and testing his patience over the last few days. 

"There is no point in going on this trip later than dawn; it will force us to stop early for the night, and we will lose valuable hiking hours." Kiyan wasn’t going to step down and shut his mouth now. The prince’s love of revelry would not spoil his plans. "This will cause us to delay our schedule, and the trip will be unnecessarily prolonged."

In the silence after Kiyan’s outburst, Adrien turned to professor Gloger and his team. "My majordomo will escort you to your rooms," he said, ignoring Kiyan entirely. As the academics followed Klemens from the room, he finally focused his dark eyes on Kiyan. "Witcher, please follow me to my office."

He didn't wait for a reaction, certain that Kiyan would listen to him, and stepped past him toward the office. The witcher caught his scent again, and it was clear that the prince was furious. Good. Kiyan was fed up with being the only one in this partnership who lost his temper.

"It's probably time to remind you where your place is, witcher." Adrien dropped the formal tone as soon as they were alone in his office. "I’m your client. Since when does the contractor decide where and when to start the task?"

"Oh, I assure you that I know my place perfectly," Kiyan replied, undaunted by the chill in the prince's voice. "My job is to protect these people. And their safety depends on a good planning of this trip. The later we go, the more the danger increases. The more tired they get, the harder it will be for them to keep pace. You are a client, yes, but that doesn't mean I'll follow your stupid orders or obstruct my work."

Adrien chuckled slightly, then went behind the desk and sat down comfortably in the chair. However, he didn’t invite Kiyan to sit down as well. It was a clear signal for the witcher that the prince placed him in the position of a servant, not a business partner.

 _He's mad at me and he wants to get under my skin,_ Kiyan thought _. You may be surprised, dear prince, when this turns against you._

"You take your work very seriously, don't you?" Adrien asked, resting his elbow on the armrest of the chair and propping his chin up with his hand. He looked the witcher up and down with intrigued eyes, and his anger gave way to curiosity. "What if I told you that I don't care how many of them come back from this trip? That I don't care about their safety?"

"I'm aware of that," Kiyan frowned but replied calmly. Adrien may have been a spoiled heir, but the witcher knew two things for sure: the prince was well trained and intelligent. He must have known that this trip was going to be exhausting and the members must be well prepared for it. If he had decided to throw a party for the night before leaving anyway, he just didn't give a shit about these people's safety. "I just don't understand why you hired me to protect them if you don't care about their lives. I have a feeling that I'm only here so you can get on my nerves."

"If it was only about their lives, I'd have my hunting dogs bite those scholars' asses off as soon as they came to me for research money," Adrien snorted with disdain. "My father loved elven art and culture; I have more respect for their weapons. You and I should understand each other on this topic. Wasn't the infamous Cat School founded by elves? Your swords are elven, aren't they?"

Kiyan didn't answer, waiting for the punchline. What he heard, however, confirmed his suspicions - the prince had from the very beginning an ulterior motive behind this expedition. 

"I don't know if you are aware of it, but you are an extremely interesting person to me because of your background and training. It is really a very lucky coincidence that our paths have crossed on this contract. I suspect that there is something in these elven ruins that may be of value to both of us. Diagrams of elven gear. I’m willing to share them with you as long as you cooperate with me on my terms."

"Cooperation is based on compromise and communication," Kiyan replied dispassionately. He wasn't going to show how intrigued he was by what Adrien had said. He had been thinking that he would have to steal some artifacts during the extraction, but now the prince, on his own initiative, was offering to share with him. "It is hard for me to trust you when I can clearly see that you're not interested in compromises, you communicate only what is convenient for you, and you want me to blindly follow your lead."

"And I'll reward you well for that," he smiled charmingly.

 _Yeah, but you're still not telling me everything_ , Kiyan thought as he carefully studied Adrien's body language and listened to his heartbeat. The prince might not be lying, but he wasn't telling the whole truth. Manipulation - that was the word Kiyan was looking for. Adrien was trying to manipulate him again.

"We would have saved ourselves the trouble if I had gone alone and looked for these diagrams." Kiyan had put his doubts aside for now. He had to concentrate on getting as much information as possible and reading between the lines what Adrien refused to say out loud.

"No offense, I know you're a polyglot, but do you know the original Elder Speech, One Speech?" Adrien inquired sincerely. "The inscriptions in these ruins are in One Speech. We need Gloger and his team to decipher this dialect of Elder Speech; the diagrams will be unreadable for us without them. They have extensive experience in extracting antiques and artifacts. What may seem to us rubbish, they can adapt to the bigger picture. So let the professionals find it, just treat them as linguistic support. After all, as I said - I don't care how many of them come back from this trip. So focus on the diagrams and let them do their job."

 _So that's how you treat people. They're just tools for you,_ Kiyan thought bitterly. Not that he felt sorry for the scholars, but the thought that he himself was just another pawn for the prince was just… sad.

"Why do you need this party tonight?" The witcher already knew that Adrien wasn’t stupid. He must have had a reason to organize a fete for people whose lives he didn’t care for. The prince looked at him appreciatively and smiled brightly. Kiyan had to admit that, despite how annoying he was at times, the bastard was attractive. Too attractive for Kiyan’s own good.

"You are sharp," remarked the prince. "You try to hide it, which is reasonable, but you just hate to play dumb, which in turn shows your pride. Smart and proud - quite a dangerous combination, especially for a mercenary, but I like it. I can work with that."

Kiyan made no comment, but winced slightly. There was too much truth in those words for him to feel comfortable.

"Either way, there is no point in pretending that I just like to throw a last-minute feast." A spark of amusement flashed in Adrien's eyes at the sight of Kiyan's sour expression. "Honestly, I hate feasts. You see, it just so happens that Gloger doesn’t trust me. I'm absolutely sure he hasn't told me everything about Est Tayiar. He knows more. I don't like buying a pig in a poke, so I want to get this information from him before you go there. I hope that the atmosphere of fun, alcohol, and the pleasant company of beautiful ladies will make him more talkative."

 _Maybe, maybe not,_ thought the witcher. If the professor didn't trust him, there was a risk that he would stay alert and not get drunk. Kiyan had a different idea. He had already identified the weakest link in the group of scholars. He could kill two birds with one stone.

"All right, prince," he declared finally, directing his steps towards the door. "Host your party, but I'll kick them out of their beds by noon anyway."

"Oh, I sincerely hope you wake them up the same way you did for me." Adrien gave him one more fucking attractive smile, and Kiyan almost forgot again how annoying this man could be.

"And Master," Adrien's words stopped him on the threshold. "You’re also invited to the feast. Please show up properly dressed, we don't want you to bring shame on my house and your profession."

Kiyan glared at him and left the office without a word, slamming the door, but his sensitive ears heard the prince's laugh anyway.

* [ Trapt - HeadStrong ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8LZ00CL8pdI)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is already Chapter 6! This one is short but important because it's time to stir the cauldron of intrigue! Though we will take our time, we also want to give Kiyan and Adrien time to deepen their bond, even though they are now mostly on a course to the misunderstandings. But arguing will quickly become one of their favorite games.
> 
> When setting up some headcanons I always liked to play with incorrect quotes and finally Gavilan decided we needed a separate space for that. So Gav created a blog on tumblr for us to shitpost. If you are curious how our work on WSTWRTS is going, you want to see some incorrect quotes or ask a question anonymously, check [HERE](https://unbury-the-gays.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Please let us know how you like our project so far. We will be glad to hear from you! <3
> 
> A.


	7. I want you to be mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiyan wasn’t even going to try to make contact with the older members of the expedition. Gloger had made it clear during their first meeting that he considered the witcher a subordinate. Therefore, Kiyan left the professors to Adrien without regret. Especially since he had an eye on a much easier and more willing target to conduct his investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stand up in the club  
> Come on let's go  
> She want me to come  
> He want me to go
> 
> And if you wanna fight  
> Let's start the show  
> 'Cause I want you to be mine *

The feast was in full swing when Kiyan decided to go downstairs to the main hall. He had no elegant clothes, but there was no way he would dress up in what the majordomo had brought for him at the behest of the prince. Aside from the fact that he would have looked silly in it, the doublet would have severely restricted his movements, and Kiyan couldn't imagine fighting in it. He didn’t expect any complications at the feast that would require him to use force, but life had taught him that it was better to always be ready than to expose yourself once and then regret it greatly.

So he chose an intermediate solution - he put on a clean, loose white shirt, which he tucked into the elegant pants that matched the doublet. He even took the time to polish his shoes. He chose to leave the swords locked in a chest in his room. However, he took with him a dagger attached to his belt, as it was impossible for him to remain completely unarmed. It was just against his nature. Either way, it was still too simple and modest attire for a feast in a prince's castle, but it was neat and certainly shouldn't offend anyone. Not that he cared about what people, especially the nobility, thought of him, but he didn't want to cause a sensation. He was going to be inconspicuous, because while he was going to have fun tonight, he was mostly going to the party to do some research. And infiltration required discretion.

The witcher stopped at the top of the stairs and looked around the room. In addition to the members of the expedition, there were other scholars and artists, a band of musicians who played cheerful tunes, and about a dozen courtesans. Not the rough dockside women Kiyan was friendly with in most cities, but elegant and beautiful women who differed from noblewomen only in that their necklines were a little too deep to be respectable in high society.

When Kiyan saw Adrien, he allowed himself to pause completely for a moment, enjoying the sight of the prince in his festive Ofieri robe the color of old gold. On his shoulder he wore a cape in the same color with a royal red lining. The rich colors brought out the warm tone of his skin. His long black wavy hair, which he usually wore tied back, was loose around his shoulders, and Adrien looked simply dashing. There was no one in this room who could match him in terms of appearance. And as if that wasn’t enough, the bloody bastard wore this look as if it cost him nothing, as if he woke up like this. 

This beautiful picture was disturbed by the fact that Adrien was standing at the banquet table and pouring alcohol into himself with great commitment. A bit further at the same table, Gloger and Oss sat in the company of two of the courtesans. It seemed that they were playing gwent, and the ladies were cheering. However, the excavation supervisor was sober and only moderately enchanted by the company. He was careful.

The witcher winced and walked towards Adrien. The prince had knowledge about intrigue, but he lacked one very important quality to be an effective player: patience. This coxcomb was spoiled and imperious; if he wanted something, he wanted it immediately, but gathering information required some sacrifice, composure, and consistency.

"You were supposed to get the professor drunk, not ruin your liver." Kiyan took Adrien's goblet from his hand in one deft move before the prince could even register his appearance.

For a split second, Adrien froze, indignant at the witcher's audacity, and looked longingly at the stolen cup. After a moment, however, something else caught his attention.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, appalled. "That's not what Klemens gave you."

"I'm wearing a compromise," Kiyan replied, amused, and drained the prince's cup in one gulp. The smell of the alcohol was familiar, its faint odor always with Adrien, no matter what time of day it was. "And this drink seems to be something you like too much. Get a hold of yourself. We have a job to do."

Adrien rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers at a nearby servant for a new goblet.

"Gloger doesn't want to talk and hasn't even touched the alcohol," the prince said glumly, refilling his cup.

 _Unlike you,_ the witcher thought, watching Adrien drink the liquor from the vessel.

"Because you may be asking the wrong questions. Or you are asking the wrong person. Gloger doesn't like you. Find someone who has more sympathy for you."

"Are you nuts? They all hate me."

"I can't really blame them." Kiyan sighed and took the alcohol from Adrien again.

"Stop it right now, or I'll have you whipped!" The prince growled in annoyance. Kiyan could tell from Adrien's wobbly movements that he was already quite drunk.

"No more drinking, get to work," Kiyan ordered brusquely, and Adrien hissed irritably. Someone here wasn't used to taking orders.

"And what about you?"

"And I'll have fun." Kiyan smiled slightly at him, waved his own cup in front of him, and continued further down the main hall, leaving Adrien alone with his distress.

He quickly found what he was looking for. Much farther at the long table were sitting Marco, Michelle, and some other scholar who was clearly trying to impress the girl with his eloquence. 

Kiyan shoved the blustering fool over on the bench to insinuate himself next to Marco. When the man turned to him in outrage, Kiyan simply rolled his eyes and ignored him, turning to wink at Marco instead.

Kiyan wasn’t even going to try to make contact with the older members of the expedition. Gloger had made it clear during their first meeting that he considered the witcher a subordinate. Therefore, Kiyan left the professors to Adrien without regret. Especially since he had an eye on a much easier and more willing target with whom to conduct his investigation.

"You can sit here and watch this smartass try to seduce your friend, or you can come with me, and I’ll show you how it should be done properly," said the witcher in Marco's ear, leaning over him. The young man immediately straightened his back, and Kiyan caught a sweet scent of excitement. Yes, this would be even easier than he had thought.

"You’re not very subtle, Master Witcher," the boy answered quietly, so that neither the other scholar nor Michelle would hear what their exchange was about.

Kiyan shrugged, watching Marco’s eyes go to his shoulders in the loose white shirt. "I'm a direct person, and I don't like to waste my time," he explained. The young man was drunk and curious, so there really was no point in playing games. Besides, Kiyan wasn’t a fan of flirting. He liked simple and clear situations. "And as for the subtleties, all in good time."

Marco finally met his gaze with his unusual blue eyes. His gaze was a bit dull, but not so much that he didn't understand what was being offered to him. On the contrary, in those eyes, under the mist of intoxication, lust lurked. The witcher looked back with equal strength, and the boy's ears reddened.

"I can't leave Michelle like this," Marco said with obvious regret and looked down, swallowing hard. The smell of his arousal was overwhelming.

The witcher looked from the boy to the couple next to him.

Michelle was clearly putting on a good face as the scholar poured alcohol into her glass and made suggestive jokes. Judging by his fashionably tailored doublet, he was high-born and the girl didn’t dare refuse him categorically, but she clearly felt uncomfortable in his company. The witcher shook his head slightly in disapproval. He never ceased to be surprised how people allowed others to break into their comfort zone just because someone had a title and money. For some reason that Kiyan couldn’t understand, the poor girl felt she couldn’t openly say ‘no.’

Kiyan, still leaning over Marco, resting hand on his shoulder, reached over the table for the bread basket next to the scholar and deliberately knocked over a bottle of wine with it. The alcohol poured straight onto the scholar's ornate doublet.

As the man jumped up from the table, shouting insults and trying to wipe the wine off his clothes as quickly as possible with the help of a tablecloth, Kiyan felt that someone was watching him. He looked back to meet Adrien's fierce glare. The prince seemed to be both furious and shocked at the same time, but Kiyan stood too far away for his nose to tell him exactly what emotions were tormenting him. Whatever they were, they were clearly strong, as they propelled him across the room toward Kiyan.

Meanwhile, Marco was covering his face trying to suppress a giggle. Michelle jumped up from her chair, calling for the servants to help the scholar clean his clothes, but the witcher caught her gaze full of relief and gratitude.

 _Stupid kids,_ he thought. Still too young and too naive to grasp that he had helped them now in his own interest. They had nothing to be thankful for.

"What the hell are you doing?" Adrien hissed furiously and tugged the witcher's arm, pulling him away from Marco. Kiyan let him. He wondered what had upset Adrien so much. Certainly not that he had poured wine on some pompous nobleman. The prince cared nothing for his guests.

"I saved a damsel in distress?" Kiyan replied innocently, and the prince in return dragged him from the main hall into the corridor. Well, a little alcohol was enough to make him a brute. The witcher was a little surprised at himself that he was allowing himself to be dragged about, but there was something endearing about a drunk and furious Adrien. Teasing the prince had become a part of their little game, and Kiyan couldn't help but feel satisfied when he won those little matches.

"So this is how you gonna have fun?" Adrien snorted at him as soon as they were alone. "Know your place, witcher. I don't pay you to fuck them!"

 _Oh, so you noticed,_ Kiyan thought in surprise, and tried to remember if his body language had been so obvious, because the prince couldn't have heard what he was talking about with Marco.

"Dear prince, with all due respect, it's none of your business who I’m going to take to bed with me tonight." Normally he would be angry with Adrien for scolding and meddling in his private affairs, but there was something absurd and surreal about the situation. As if they were an old married couple who had just had an argument. "Really, someone might think you are making a scene out of jealousy."

Adrien was already drawing a breath to talk back, but he shut his mouth abruptly at these words and looked at Kiyan, clearly confused. The witcher finally began to pay attention to what his nose was telling him.

Alcohol, anger, bitterness, hurt. _Jealousy._

Kiyan's eyes widened. For fuck's sake, it _was_ a scene of jealousy. What the hell is going on here?

"You shouldn't be fraternizing with them," the prince said finally, not meeting his eyes and gritting his teeth.

"Why not?" he asked provocatively, carefully analyzing the scents again, but no, it wasn't a mistake. The prince was furious and jealous.

_Is he that drunk?_

The past few days flashed through Kiyan’s mind, all those confusing conversations which he systematically marked with red flags. All of Adrien's idiotic behavior now made a new sort of sense.

_Well, shit._

"Because I want them dead," Adrien finally looked at him, something sinister flashing in his eyes. "I want you to kill them as soon as they find and decipher the diagrams. None of them are to come out of those ruins alive."

"Why?" the witcher wondered if this was the ulterior motive that the prince had planned from the beginning, or if jealousy and alcohol had infected his mind.

"I told you, Gloger doesn’t trust me. I'm sure he will hide the more valuable finds from me. He will not want to give me the diagrams, and he'll donate everything to the Academy. If you take it from him by force, there will be a scandal, and I cannot lose my connection with the Academy. Too many clients important to me appreciate my support for them. If you kill them, I'll simply say that the scholars went missing on the expedition. We don't know what happened to them, it was an unfortunate accident and a great tragedy. I will fund a memorial for them and I'll pretend I'm so sorry."

_Well, SHIT._

"And you're telling me this _now_?"

"Is that a problem?" Adrien asked sharply, as if challenging him.

Kiyan could smell a faint scent of fear from him now. The prince was afraid that the witcher would withdraw. Or that he would reveal his plan. Or both.

"Yes," he replied angrily. "The contract was to protect these people. Assassination is a completely different kind of risk, so it has a different price."

"It's about the money?" Adrien asked in indulgent surprise. "That's not a problem, I'll give you more."

"It's about the rules." Kiyan could feel his temper slipping out of his tight control. "Don't play your dirty games with me. You gave me a seemingly simple contract, but you didn't tell me everything. This is the third time you have concealed key information from me. I don’t like these kinds of surprises."

"You're pissed off because I want you to kill the boy." It wasn't a question. Adrien smiled crookedly, but his scent told the witcher that he was upset.

 _Oh, and the moron still doesn't understand!_ The witcher had had enough of this; he sincerely wanted to punch him at last. Kiyan grabbed Adrien by the collar and pushed him against the wall behind him.

"I'm pissed off because you don't take me seriously. I'm not one of your stupid henchmen!" Kiyan shouted, his voice echoing down the hall. Immediately after that, there was a deathly silence. The witcher himself was shocked by his outburst of emotions. He really hadn’t thought Adrien would be able to get under his skin this much.

The prince stared at him intently, but didn’t even try to free himself from his grasp. What the witcher saw in his eyes was determination.

"I take you very seriously," the prince finally said quietly. "I didn't tell you about it before because I just wasn't sure-- I didn't know if you would want to quit if I told you what my plan was."

"Bullshit," huffed the witcher. "The rules are that the client first tells me exactly what the contract is about and I decide whether or not I take it. If I don't, you hire someone else who agrees to your terms. It's simple and fair."

"But I don't want anyone else." Adrien looked him in the eye and leaned in his direction. " _I want_ **_you_** _._ "

There was too much passion in the prince's voice for it to be a bad choice of words. It was a confession, and Kiyan felt hot. On the one hand, it was a huge problem. On the other... he wanted Adrien too. He was realizing it only now, but the feeling wasn’t new, just suppressed from the very beginning. Pushed into the deepest subconscious because being involved with Adrien meant a series of complications. Complications that Kiyan didn't need. He worked for him. They were different in character, worldview, and status. Besides, the prince was a manipulator, and the jealousy that had started this damn conversation confirmed Kiyan's suspicions that he was also sickly possessive. Give him an inch and he would take whatever he wanted. Clearly casual sex wasn’t really an option; in this setup, it was like asking to put a collar with a chain around your neck.

Adrien moved, leaning toward Kiyan with obvious intent to kiss him, and the witcher sharply stepped back. No, he definitely didn't want that kind of complications. Adrien gave him a disappointed and wounded look.

 _Focus on what you're here for in the first place,_ Kiyan ordered himself firmly. _It doesn't really matter if he wants to protect these scholars or kill them, you came here for the treasure of Est Tayiar. Haggle. And don't allow yourself to succumb to this temptation. Don't let him distract you._

"Double pay for every head." the witcher said quickly, before Adrien could comment on what had just happened. "And I can take any diagram that I choose."

"Double pay as long as you bring me the heads for proof," growled the prince angrily. "And you can choose the diagram only if the boy dies first."

 _I wonder how you are going to verify that._ Kiyan grimaced, but he took his work seriously. If the client intended to pay for this service, he would perform it.

"So we have a deal," the witcher summed up shortly and directed his steps back to the main hall. He needed to get the idea of this romance out of his head. Because the temptation was strong. Much stronger than he had expected. It was time to flee.

"Where are you going?"

"It looks like this is my last chance," he replied without even turning around. "I'm going to use it."

Behind him he heard a quiet, frustrated curse from Adrien's lips, and immediately stepped between his guests. He quickly found Marco in the crowd.

"Come on, pretty boy," he said softly, coming from behind him and placing a hand on the back of his neck. The young man looked at him and smiled. "This will be the best night of your life."

 _And probably the last one like this,_ he thought as they sneaked out of one of the side exits.

* [ Ofenbach - Be Mine ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNWOC_Pvo4w)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today is Valentine's Day, so we have Chapter 7 for you as a Valentine's Day gift! 
> 
> We wanted to thank all of you so much for your love, support, for your comments, kudos, bookmarks and any other manifestation of your love for this fic. We appreciate it very much and we are extremely happy that you are here with us. We love you! <3 
> 
> The moment has finally come when Adrien confesses to Kiyan not only his evil plan but also his feelings. Well, maybe not quite, but he makes it clear that he is interested in him. This, however, didn't go as he expected...
> 
> As for the visual reference, Adrien's outfit for this feast was inspired by **[this](https://www.looksgud.in/blog/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/10.-best-sherwani-designs-for-groom.jpg)**.
> 
> Also, Gav turned on the Ask option on [our tumblr](https://unbury-the-gays.tumblr.com) (we didn't know it needed to be turned on, so that's why it wasn't there before :P). So if you want to [ask us a question](https://unbury-the-gays.tumblr.com/ask), now it is possible! 
> 
> Please let us know how you like our project so far. We will be glad to hear from you! <3
> 
> A.


	8. Crawlin' back to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adrien hated failure. It had a bitter taste and made him question his right to be superior. And today's failure, in addition to bitterness, also brought pain. This pain was brand new, as if Adrien had a huge hole in his chest that no alcohol could fill. He wanted to howl in frustration and longing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So have you got the guts?  
> Been wonderin' if your heart's still open  
> And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts  
> Simmer down an' pucker up, I'm sorry to interrupt  
> It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of tryin' to kiss you  
> I don't know if you feel the same as I do  
> But we could be together if you wanted to 
> 
> (Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways?  
> (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay  
> (Baby, we both know) That the nights were mainly made  
> For sayin' things that you can't say tomorrow day
> 
> Crawlin' back to you  
> Ever thought of callin' when  
> You've had a few?  
> 'Cause I always do  
> Maybe I'm too  
> Busy bein' yours  
> To fall for somebody new  
> Now, I've thought it through  
> Crawlin' back to you *

Adrien was drunk. It wasn't the first time in his life. On the contrary, it happened often, but he was usually in control of it. But tonight was a fucking disaster.

Aside from the fact that he hadn't gotten any information from Gloger, he felt the greatest acrimony and disappointment about Kiyan. Adrien hated failure. It had a bitter taste and made him question his right to be superior. And today's failure, in addition to bitterness, also brought pain. This pain was brand new, as if Adrien had a huge hole in his chest that no alcohol could fill. He wanted to howl in frustration and longing.

He was fully exhausted by it when he finally got to his own bed. Despite the alcohol buzzing in his head and tangling his limbs, he locked the bedroom door behind him and even managed to partially undress before he collapsed on the sheets and drifted off into a restless sleep.

Before dawn, he was awakened by the increasing sound of rain, murmurs of distant thunder, and a cool breeze from the window. For a moment, still half asleep, he tried to remember if he had locked it for the night, when he suddenly realized that there was something else that had disturbed his sleep. He opened his eyes abruptly, sensing that he wasn’t alone in the room. He wasn’t alerted by any sound or movement, but he could feel that someone else was breathing the same air as him, watching him.

A stab of panic lifted him from the bed, but he froze when he heard the familiar voice: "Relax, it's just me."

He slowly sat up in bed and looked toward the voice. In the open window, sitting on the windowsill, he saw a familiar figure in the darkness. A pair of amber glowing eyes followed Adrien's every move.

 _It's not 'just you',_ thought the prince with his still sleepy mind. _It's 'all about you.'_

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Sitting," Kiyan replied simply, and the surrealism of the situation began to overwhelm Adrien a bit.

"I really haven't had enough alcohol to be delusional," he said slowly, grabbing the bridge of his nose. "But please give me more information to convince me that you aren’t a hallucination."

"I don't have any water to douse you with this time, but I can slap you as proof that I’m a material being," the witcher offered graciously.

"No need. Hallucination would be nicer to me," Adrien muttered, rubbing his temples now. His head hurt terribly. Kiyan raised an eyebrow slightly at that, but made no comment on the prince's relationship with his phantoms. "How did you even get in here?"

Kiyan pointed to the window.

"Seriously?" the prince asked disapprovingly. "This is the fourth floor, and I know you’re aware that this room has a door."

The witcher shrugged. "I didn’t want to break the lock." _You could have just knocked,_ Adrien thought, but then he realized that just knocking wouldn’t have disturbed his sleep. He had learned to ignore the sound when he was hungover and his servants pounded on the door. That was why Klemens had a key.

"Do you have something urgent to discuss? Because I thought you'd be busy fucking little Marco tonight," the prince said harshly.

"If I were stubborn in this matter, I could have fucked him for many hours, but I get the feeling you didn't mean _that_ when you said you wanted me to kill the boy first."

Adrien raised his eyes to the ceiling in anguish. The witcher always had a ready answer for him, was always able to return his malice or oppose him. His life would be so much simpler if Kiyan just shut the fuck up and obeyed him.

 _On the other hand, would he be so interesting then?_ _T_ he prince asked himself.

Kiyan snapped his fingers, and all the candles in the room caught fire. It was only when the light flooded the room that the prince noticed that the witcher was soaked, proof, had Adrien needed it, that he had indeed climbed in the window through the pouring rain outside. He was still wearing the loose linen shirt he had worn to the feast, and it was practically transparent as it clung to the sculpted muscle of his shoulders. Adrien’s mouth went dry with want even through his headache and frustration. Adrien got up from the bed and went to the dresser to get the witcher a towel.

"I have something for you," said the witcher, when the prince threw a clean, soft towel at him. Kiyan efficiently snatched the towel out of the air, threw it over his shoulders, and reached into his pants pocket to pull out a folded, slightly damp parchment. "Thought you might be interested in this."

Adrien took the parchment from him and unfolded it. The sheaf of parchment contained notes in a small, neat handwriting he recognized. Gloger's notes. The prince looked at Kiyan with wide eyes.

"Where did you get this?"

"You would be surprised how charming I can be sometimes." The witcher smiled crookedly, and Adrien thought that he wouldn’t be surprised at all. "Dear little Marco was determined to impress me. He was very eager to talk about Gloger's research as soon as he realized that his knowledge of Est Tayiar fascinated me. He gave me the notes he got from the professor, and it looks like you were right. Gloger hid the essence of this research from you. Marco admitted that his supervisor had forbidden them to tell anyone, especially you. These ruins are the remains of the palace of the elven mage-king Maegler. Est Tayiar is a strong source of power and much older than the professor told you. There may be something much older and more valuable than just elven weapon diagrams."

"And you got all of this from that little slut?" Adrien asked incredulously, flipping through notes.

That Kiyan was intelligent was hardly news. On the other hand, the fact that he was so cunning and calculated aroused a new kind of desire in the prince. And to think that he had been afraid to reveal his own malevolent and mercenary nature to him. It seemed they had more in common than he had realized.

"Am I not a professional with many talents?" Kiyan asked perversely, and the prince looked up from his papers.

"So you actually do listen to what I say." 

"I always listen to what you say." Kiyan continued to stare intently at Adrien. In this light, his eyes seemed liquid gold. "I just usually don't like it."

The prince threw the notes on the table by the bed and stalked toward the witcher until he was standing between his thighs. Kiyan raised his head to keep his eyes on Adrien from his position, but he didn’t try to get up from the windowsill, didn’t back away, made no sign that the reduction in distance had made him uncomfortable even though he was now clearly trapped between the window and the prince. Adrien was aware that for the witcher, pushing him away wouldn’t be a problem, but Kiyan calmly waited for his next move.

Adrien had thought he had lost when Kiyan turned his back on him during the feast and went to chase after Marco. The witcher was perceptive, and the prince hadn’t hid his interest in him. Hell, he had told him outright that he wanted him. So Kiyan knew very well what desires were driving Adrien. The prince, in turn, had no idea what was going on in the witcher's head. There were times when he thought he had caught the witcher, but as soon as Adrien wanted to take another step, Kiyan ran away from him. Then, at the feast, he had run away again. Yet now he was here, in his bedroom, in the middle of the night, having climbed in through the fucking window, to give him information he couldn't get himself.

"It could have waited until morning," said Adrien, grabbing the witcher's jaw to prevent him from looking away. He wanted Kiyan to look at him, and only him. The prince wanted to be burned by that golden, wild gaze. He wanted to own it just for himself. "And yet you are here. I wonder if this is your way of saying sorry or if you just like to torment me."

Kiyan frowned, a hint of frustration crossing his face, then he sighed in resignation and closed his eyes.

 _Oh, for fuck's sake!_ Adrien thought irritably. _Does he always have to find a way to act against me?_

The prince leaned forward and gripped Kiyan's jaw tighter, forcing him to part his lips slightly. With his eyes closed and lips open, the witcher looked irresistibly beautiful, almost peaceful. Adrien’s breath caught in his chest, and he couldn’t resist, pressing his mouth to Kiyan’s parted lips. He fully expected to be met with violence, for Kiyan to push him away or run from him again. But to the prince's surprise, he encountered no resistance. Kiyan returned the kiss willingly and passionately, but also with a tenderness that Adrien would never have suspected of him. Kiyan’s lips were soft against his, his tongue pressing into Adrien’s mouth almost gently. It was intoxicating and tasted so good. He was desperately curious what else good he could get from him.

"I want you," said the prince, quiet and breathlessly, his mouth close to Kiyan's lips, when he broke away from him for a moment, overwhelmed by the new sensations. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt like this. "I want you to stay with me. I want you to be mine, I want to--"

The witcher snorted softly and closed Adrien’s mouth with another kiss. He pressed a cold hand to Adrien's burning chest. The prince inhaled sharply and deepened the kiss. He felt every point of contact between them like a brand. Kiyan’s smooth jaw beneath his palm, the maddening slide of their lips and tongues in the kiss, that cold hand on his chest the only thing keeping him from pressing himself into Kiyan’s wet chest as if he could dissolve into him. Adrien felt like he was going crazy. He wanted more. He wanted everything. And he wasn’t going to let the witcher out of here until he got it.

Unexpectedly, Kiyan broke the kiss. He pressed his hand harder against the prince's chest, pushing him gently but firmly. They both gasped for air into the sudden space between them. Adrien looked longingly at Kiyan's red and swollen lips. He wanted to feel them on his own again, they were so addictive, but the witcher still kept him at bay.

"Good night, prince," Kiyan said fondly, and before Adrien could process his words, the witcher pushed away from him and fell backward, right into the darkness of the open window.

Adrien lunged forward to catch him on instinct, but Kiyan was no longer on the windowsill. When Adrien looked out the window, he saw the witcher land safely and softly like the cats his school was named for on the roof one floor below and swing down from the ledge like an acrobat.

"Motherfucker!" Adrien hissed through gritted teeth. Once again, he had let Kiyan make a fool of him and run away.

*

Kiyan landed next to the stables and leaned heavily against the side of the building. He exposed his face to the rain, letting the cold water soak him to the bone. It did nothing to quench the burning desire that had settled through him at the first touch of Adrien’s lips.

It really could have waited until morning. He should have known better. He should have kept it to himself in the first place. The less Adrien knew about Est Tayiar, the better for Kiyan. Instead, the witcher, like a complete idiot, like the prince's faithful dog, had brought Gloger's notes in his teeth for him.

 _You made a big mistake_ , he rebuked himself, still feeling the desire building and fighting the urge to go back upstairs and throw Adrien on his bed. _It was a close call._ _You shouldn't have let him touch you. You shouldn't have come here at all. Meanwhile, like some horny idiot, you've found any excuse to end up in his bedroom. Pull yourself together and don't let it happen again._

With this resolve, Kiyan finally pulled away from the wall, grasped the edge of the low roof of the stables, and began climbing this time to his own room. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, but he could at least manage to meditate for a while before dawn. Clear his mind. Take back control.

* [ Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know? ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpOSxM0rNPM)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 is here! Yay! Ok, this one is really short but... you know 😉
> 
> We hope you enjoy it! We know the action is slow, but we want to have time to outline Kiyan and Adrien's relationship in the right way. Contrary to appearances, all this is needed to show how much their approach and feelings have changed after... 'The Demon Incident'.There are things we know must happen, but there are also many hc that come to us as we write and it sometimes change the direction and duration of certain events.
> 
> We added a new tag 'Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism' because it is one of those things that turned out while writing. Certainly, there will be more such tags that will appear over time, so please pay attention to them. We try to update them on a regular basis. If you think any more tags should still appear here, please let us know!
> 
> Thank you very much for all the Asks sent on tumblr, we will certainly answer them all, but we would like to do it at intervals. So please be patient, we are working on it! 😊
> 
> Please let us know how you like our project so far. We are always happy to hear from you! <3
> 
> A.


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